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.

Children sit at a small outdoor table on grass, smiling and eating macaroni, peas and nuggets, with drinks beside them in bright sunlight.

Dadless Dinners: How We Simplify Meals When Dad’s Away

Written By Sydney Smith

There aren’t many things I can say I look forward to when my husband leaves. But there are a few itty-bitty pleasures I secretly enjoy — such as sleeping in the middle of the bed, having less laundry to worry about, and of course … simplified meal planning.

If you find yourself in (or approaching) a season of solo parenting, let me be a source of encouragement, and maybe even a little excitement. At the very least, I hope I can convince you to change things up and make life a lot simpler while you manage the home and kids on your own.

In our house, we call them “dadless dinners.” You know, the dinners where you don’t have to check every box — meat, vegetable, starch, etc. The kids absolutely live for these meals, as do I.

The first week that Dad is gone, we usually go a little wild with boxed mac and cheese, chicken nuggets of all shapes and sizes (we don’t judge!), quesadillas, more frequent fast-food meals and snack plates out on the back patio.

But after about a week, I start getting a little tired of “kid food” and cheese and begin craving something with a bit more substance. (My telltale sign is when I start craving salad, which I didn’t even know could be a thing.)

That’s when I start cooking a little more again. Some of our favorite more “upscale” dadless dinners include buttered noodles with fried zucchini and parmesan on top, and “lazy girl” chicken parmesan —just bake frozen chicken patties with a jar of marinara and a bag of shredded mozzarella on top, then serve with angel hair pasta.

We also love breakfast for dinner, sautéed pierogies with Polish sausage and broccoli, corn dog casserole (easy to find online) and simple sheet pan dinners such as sausage, sweet potatoes and veggies served over rice. Another favorite is make-your-own pizza night. I’ll grab flatbreads or ready-made pizza dough to keep things extra easy.

When dad is gone, I also like to switch up our grocery routine and visit a new grocery store — maybe the “splurge store” or the one where you wander the aisles without a list and somehow find all the things you didn’t need. My kids and I love raiding the frozen section to try new frozen dinners, or finding tasty bakery treats and fun snacks along the aisles. I’ve also noticed that when my husband is gone, our grocery money tends to stretch a little further each month, which leaves room for a few extra treats.

And if you’re really feeling simple and minimal one week, just cook one big casserole-style meal and live off it for several days. My best advice for this approach is to choose something everyone in the house likes so you’re not battling complaints all week.

Whether you’re eating kid food, snack food or maybe just a little too much cheese, don’t be afraid to adjust things to fit your kids’ preferences and your own. Eat what feels good and don’t be afraid to get creative. Make easy burger sliders on Hawaiian buns to accommodate little hands. Toss those chicken nuggets onto a chopped salad kit, and suddenly it’s a fancy salad!

Whatever you do, don’t make cooking stressful. Because chances are, if the cooking is stressful, the cleanup will be too.

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 deployment resources and tools tailored to your needs.

Laptop open beside two coffee cups on a wooden table by a window.

The Career That Didn’t Survive the Move (And Why It Wasn’t a Failure)

Written By Kristi Stolzenberg

Twenty years ago, if someone had told me I’d make a living as a writer and editor — from home — I would’ve given them major side-eye. Blogging wasn’t really a thing yet, let alone a viable job option, and remote work was rare.

So, I opted for a practical route: an English degree, a Texas teaching certificate and a job teaching eighth-grade language arts near Houston. I took the first job I was offered outside my small hometown. I loved my students, but by the end of that first school year, I let my principal know that I wouldn’t be returning. I’d met a handsome flight student stationed in my hometown while I was visiting over Thanksgiving break. I was following him back home and taking a job at my old junior high, teaching seventh-graders.

The Move

He earned his wings in July; school started in August; by mid-September we had a date with the justice of the peace, followed quickly by my first PCS. That first one had quite a learning curve. When we finally arrived in North Carolina, I learned two things: movers and I have a very different definition of packing, and getting a teaching job was going to be a lot easier with a North Carolina teaching certificate.

I passed the exam, applied to all the school districts within reach and accepted a fifth-grade position almost immediately. Smugly wondering what all the fuss over military spouse employment was all about (this was a piece of cake), I enjoyed my summer and prepared to start my new job at the end of July.

The Catch

I know now, obviously, that that fuss was (and still is) warranted. By the end of June, I was growing concerned that I hadn’t heard anything about a start date … or signed anything.

Emails and calls went unanswered, and by the time I heard back in early August, the news wasn’t good: a hiring freeze had eliminated my position. The start of the school year was just days away, and I was unemployed.

I vividly remember sitting at my computer on the first day of school and hearing the school bus stop at the end of our street. This was the first time since I was in kindergarten that I wasn’t going back to school. It felt wrong. I was lost and bored without a job to pour my energy into.

And more than anything, I felt defeated — angry that I’d wasted a summer because I blissfully assumed I had a job lined up, frustrated at myself for assuming, and embarrassed that the ink was barely dry on my degree and two teaching certificates, but I was spending my days online shopping, planting things in the yard that were sadly not long for this world in my care and doing at-home workouts while our dog napped.

A home office desk by a window with a laptop, chair and natural light.

The Pivot

I needed direction. That much was clear. I started blogging about military spouse life — which wasn’t winning any literary recognition, but it was something.

Months later, at the urging of a good friend, I found myself sitting across the table from the local newspaper editor. I pitched an idea of a weekly column about the ins and outs of life as a new Marine Corps spouse. To my utter shock, he agreed to a trial run, which led to a regular column. It paid nothing, but I told myself the experience was priceless — at least I wouldn’t have that dreaded resume gap.

I eventually syndicated the column with neighboring papers. My efforts earned me $15 per week. It wasn’t enough for a tank of gas, but being able to say I was a paid newspaper columnist lit me up in a way I hadn’t felt since I stopped teaching.

And it opened doors — doors I never would’ve walked by on my teaching career path. One kind column reader suggested I apply for an opening where her daughter worked — which turned out to be the opportunity that brought me to the Blog Brigade (so many) years ago.

Calling a Loss a Win

I never used that North Carolina teaching certificate. My Texas certificate eventually lapsed, and I slowly gave away all my gently used classroom supplies. After that “lost” job, I took a chance on a career and on myself. Luckily, I’ve worked for some wonderful people who also were willing to take a chance on me.

The reward was a flexible, creative and portable career that has pushed my skills, subject knowledge and, ultimately, my potential. I’m not the girl choosing the safe, practical route anymore, and I’m thankful I was lucky enough to try on a few career hats before finding the perfect fit.

The rise in remote work and expanding license reciprocity have both improved the landscape for us, but military spouse employment still has its challenges. The uncertainty you feel at PCS time is real, but so are the opportunities.

What initially felt like a professional failure turned out to be a pivot. Sometimes the job that isn’t working out is just clearing the way for something even better.

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 education and employment resources and tools tailored to your needs.

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