Kristi’s family dressed in formal attire posing together outside a brick building.

Lifelong Benefits for Military Kids

Written By Kristi Stolzenberg

Nothing puts terms like “lifelong” or “for life” in perspective quite like military separation. The end of military service is punctuated by a change in benefits and lifestyle. In the last year, I’ve heard more about TRICARE, DoD ID renewal, base access, and Veterans Affairs services than ever before. It’s not hard to begin believing that “benefits” are black and white. They’re earned and retained according to policy. For retirees, they’re forever—lifelong, for life. The same is true for military spouses, with a few exceptions. Military kids will eventually age out of TRICARE, base access, and other benefits earned by their service member parent unless they choose to serve.

Kristi’s family exploring an elevated outdoor walkway in a city, as a child takes a photo of Kristi’s husband leaning on the railing.

Did this realization make me a little more emotional than rationally necessary? Of course, in my mind it’s no different than other milestones of growing up. Our kids lose baby teeth, ditch their training wheels, learn to drive, graduate, follow their own paths, and get their own health insurance. The simultaneous pull of parental torture and pride continues.

Kristi’s family posing together beneath a bright orange pathway.

Redefining Benefits

While we can’t keep them (or keep them on our TRICARE plan) forever, there are things they can never lose:

  • The culture they picked up along the way has some staying power. The places they’ve lived around the globe have shaped their understanding of the world. Whether outside the gates in Japan or on base in North Carolina, I’m proud that our kids appreciate diversity and customs different than their own. I’m grateful that they respect rules, customs, and traditions. I hope they continue to curiously ask questions and deepen their understanding of the world and the people in it.
  • The stories and photos they have are proof of a full childhood. Even though it’s been nearly 10 years since we moved to Japan, their time there is still incredibly relevant. Just this month, our son completed a school history project about the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. He has actually visited ground zero in both places. They are real to him, and experience is an amazing teacher. More casually, I love hearing any time our kids can stun a classroom by sharing they lived in Japan—or even other parts of the U.S.—or they’ve traveled all over Asia. I hope they will always keep people guessing when they play Two Truths and a Lie!
  • The family we chose aren’t blood relatives, of course, but they have a crew of honorary aunts and uncles who will always be in their corner. They’re growing up alongside bonus cousins, and it’s made this mama’s heart soar knowing that they have so many people who love them (and attend their games and recitals and remember their birthdays). That kind of bond is definitely “for life.”
  • The pride and gratitude they carry for military service members was inspired by their own dad’s service. They were lucky enough to see firsthand what it means to stand for something bigger than themselves. They’ve seen the true meaning of sacrifice, and the importance in showing up and giving one hundred percent. Whether they choose to serve one day or not, I will never doubt that they respect those who wear the uniform and the families that serve alongside them.

Our kids might not have their DoD IDs forever, but they have plenty more (and more flattering) photos to look back on. Their years of being military kids and the experiences, people, and places that shaped it are theirs for life.

People river watching floating lanterns drift beneath a bridge during an outdoor evening event.

Blog Brigade unites military spouses by creating a community built on shared experiences and mutual support. Navigating the complexities of military life can be challenging, but you don’t have to do it alone. Military OneSource offers valuable resources focused on well-being, readiness and connection. Explore a range of military child and youth resources and tools tailored to your needs.

Lauren sitting on stone steps outside a government building, smiling while wearing a plaid shirt and black pants in bright daylight.

Freedom, In Practice

Written By Lauren Hagee Glintz

This July, with the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, I find myself more reflective than usual about my relationship with my country. That relationship started long before I became a military spouse and has always been a present part of my life, but it’s evolved over the years.

Lauren and a man standing beside the Reflecting Pool at sunset with the Washington Monument centered in the background.

I spent my young childhood in New England, where revolutionary history feels close, and the stories of the revolutionaries — their bravery and their ideals — sparked my young imagination. I spent long afternoons with dog-eared revolutionary historical fiction, relishing the books with young female heroines. My prized possession was a redheaded doll named Felicity, a colonial girl with a revolutionary spirit who may have influenced my adult hair color and, in some ways, my career.

Lauren in a graduation cap and gown holding a diploma while posing outdoors with two smiling family members during a graduation ceremony.

As I grew up, that imagination turned academic. I studied political science, interned in the U.S. Senate and spent law school buried in the nuances of the Constitution and criminal law. Eventually, the theory became practical. I joined a federal law enforcement agency and took an oath to support and defend the Constitution. I genuinely loved the mission of serving and protecting my community. Then, while working at headquarters in Washington, D.C., I met a Marine.

My relationship with my country evolved yet again. Although I was already deeply committed to public service, becoming a military spouse closed any remaining gap between my personal life and the United States. My most personal decisions, such as when to have a baby, have been made in the context of the needs of the military and the country.

Those same realities ultimately led me to step away from my own career after 12 years: a PCS move to a location far from even a satellite office, combined with the near impossibility of securing emergency child care if both my husband and I were called to respond at the same time.

And now, this year especially, as I watch multiple unfolding military conflicts on the news, I’m no longer a removed citizen. I’m a military spouse and a mother, wondering when, and for how long, my husband is going to be gone.

Lauren smiling in a yellow patterned top in front of the U.S. Capitol building with the dome blurred in the background.

In quiet moments, I think, why did we choose this for ourselves, for our family? How do I explain daddy’s military service to my children, who only know that their dad left unexpectedly on Christmas Day?

The answer I come to, again and again, is the same thing that touched my little girl heart all those years ago. The American ideals that we believe to be self-evident and hold dear — freedom, equality, justice — are worthy and still worth working toward. They aren’t just old words; they are goals we’re trying to reach — for our family, our community and our country. It may look different for each of us, but I think we’re all aiming for the same place.

Right now, my children are little. They don’t understand mommy’s abstract pontifications about the nuances of freedom. (My law degree is wasted on them.) In some ways, though, that’s good for me. It brings me back down to earth, to what matters most in our country and in our home.

At this age, my children can understand these principles in simple ways. They learn about freedom at the dinner table, during rousing conversation where sometimes we disagree but always, always love each other.

They learn about equality in the neighborhood, when we invite all the kids to join in our games. And they learn about justice at the playground, where we talk about how the rules apply to everyone, and why we speak up when we see someone being treated unfairly.

My relationship with my country is no longer the uncomplicated love of a child reading a storybook — it’s more informed, more nuanced, more lived — but that childhood spark remains. I read those opening paragraphs of the Declaration of Independence and still find myself thinking, “Yes, they were really onto something here.”

It’s that something that reaffirms my hope for my country, for the ideals we’re striving to embody. It’s that something I keep coming back to in our service through all the seasons of my life.

Blog Brigade unites military spouses by creating a community built on shared experiences and mutual support. Navigating the complexities of military life can be challenging, but you don’t have to do it alone. Military OneSource offers valuable resources focused on well-being, readiness and connection. Explore a range of spouse resources and tools tailored to your needs.

Lauren and two young children pose at a playground, with a baby in a swing and an older child gently pushing under a clear blue sky.

The Mental Load of Being Alone

Written By Lauren Hagee Glintz

The other night, I was cleaning up dinner, my two children at my feet, when the fire alarms throughout our house began blasting. Of course, the baby started crying. Of course, my 4-year-old joined in, happily screaming in dissonant harmony. I swung around checking the oven and the stove, but the cooking was long over and nothing had been left on.

Lauren’s young child sits at a table eating a meal with a fork, wearing a bib, with a drink and plate of food.

That’s when I saw the scented candle I had lit. Flames shot up and smoke curled toward the ceiling. I ran over and threw the lid on to smother it.

That immediately stopped the flames, but all the alarms in our house were still screaming, as were my children. The alarm in the main room was too high for me to reach without getting the heavy-duty ladder from the garage, so I decided to first tackle the hallway and bedroom alarms. I jumped up and hit the silence button. Nothing happened. I ripped one alarm off the wall. It still shrieked. I pulled the battery out of another. It kept screeching. There was nothing left to do but throw open the windows and doors, blaring my shame to the neighborhood, until the smoke cleared and the alarms turned themselves off.

A piano with open sheet music sits against a wall, decorated with framed photos and artwork.

The candle was on the tall upright piano that’s been in my family for over 100 years, placed there specifically to keep it out of reach of tiny hands. The piano was already full of character – from its beginnings in an Iowa farmhouse, the countless cross-country moves and generations of children learning on it. Now, it has my addition of a noticeable scorch mark.

I texted my family what happened and ended the saga with, “And of course my husband isn’t home.”

My husband isn’t home a lot. I know, I know. It’s part of the military deal. But, good heavens, it’s hard.

I could list the big things I’ve done without him – COVID-19, pregnancies, house hunting, illnesses – but that’s not the hard part. The hard part is the small things. Every day. For weeks. Alone. It’s the mental load of dinner, cleanup, bathtime, bedtime, sleep regressions, tantrums and everything in between (like fire alarms). Repeat.

I don’t have a solution. I don’t even really have words of wisdom. I can only offer validation: You are right. This is so hard. Be so nice to yourself.

I am serious about being kind to myself. Mostly, I try to give myself things to look forward to. For four years, my husband had predictable long stretches when he was unavailable. My son and I had a standing Friday night date at our favorite fast-food restaurant. Sometimes friends joined, but usually it was just us. He enjoyed chicken nuggets and fries, and I enjoyed not making dinner and cleaning up.

Sometimes being kind to myself means admitting I need help. When I was eight and a half months pregnant, I thought I had thrown out my back (it turned out to be shingles!). I was in such pain that I called my mom, crying, because I didn’t know how I’d care for my energetic son all weekend. My mom, ever the pragmatist, said, “Lauren, hire a babysitter!” I spent the weekend on heating pads while my son played with a very fun teenage neighbor.

Right now, as I type this, I’m staring down another weekend alone. Even after five years as a military spouse with children, I still feel intimidated by the open-ended days with two little ones.

I’m doing my best to set myself up for success. I’ve accepted that it will feel a bit hard, but I’ve made plans to meet up with a friend at a playground. The kids and I will have big bowls of pasta that we don’t get to enjoy when low-carb Daddy is home. And I’ll watch a silly show after they’re in bed.

I’ll do what I always do. I’ll get through it.

But I’ll still be counting down the minutes until he walks back through the door.

Blog Brigade unites military spouses by creating a community built on shared experiences and mutual support. Navigating the complexities of military life can be challenging, but you don’t have to do it alone. Military OneSource offers valuable resources focused on well-being, readiness, and connection. Explore a range of mental health resources tailored to your needs.

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