What To Expect When Expecting An Event

When one is getting ready to have a big event, such as a wedding, party, or shower, things can often become overwhelming when you are planning a lavish, large scale event. This is when you should consider the employ of an event planner. My friend, Kerri (Of Kerri Mullis Events-shameless promotion here) and I have decided to start a small business creating party favors, event invitations, ect, and during this creation and start-up we've been plagued with potiential clients who aren't aware of proper etiquette when dealing with a planner. Here is a list of DO's and DON'T's for this process.

1. First and foremost, please remember that a planner is not a cheap person to employ. The use of a planner is to give you the experience of a lifetime. They want to make your special day memorable, and provide it to you in a way that makes your life a thousand times easier so that you are able to enjoy the experience of your event without the added stress. These services come at a price, so it is important to know if your event budget will be able to accomodate this process. It is good to have a rough estimate of what you are able to spend before you seek a planner. A good margin to go by is to remember that most planners won't do something as big as a wedding for less than 3000 dollars. Don't get me wrong, there are cheaper planners out there, but they are very hard to find. Also remember that you get what you pay for. And know that these planners handle every detail for you so you are at peace of mind knowing you are in capable hands.

2. Don't waste a planner's time. If you request a consult, know that most planners will charge you for this. This is their way of weeding out the people who are trying to get free advice from the real potential clients who are actually interested in hiring a planner. Don't ask a planner a plethora of questions and advice without expecting to pay the price. Just think of it this way: You wouldn't ask Christian Dior how to make one of his gowns so you could make a knock off. It doesn't work that way. Many planners (like Kerri Mullis Events) will put the cost of the consult toward your cost of services if you choose to hire them.

3. Even if you are not interested, have the courtesey to respond to the planner. Planners are extremely busy people. They usually have multiple events going on at once, and they take the time out of their schedules to respond to your questions. If you ask a planner how much services are and you are not happy with the price, it is rude to just ignore them. You have to realize that they break down each service you need to come up with a personal estimate for you. If these services are out of your budget comfort zone, it is common courtesey to let them know this. You might be surprised by the response. More often than not, a planner will work with you to meet your needs and remain in the confines of your budgets. Planners are not computerized drones that do this work without thought, they are people that are dedicated to giving you the experience of your dreams and will work with you any way possible to make that happen.

4. Don't question a planner's motives. A planner's job is to please you. Understand that they are hired to make your fantasy a reality, not to be your punching bag. Planners are in this profession because they know what they are doing, so it is unacceptable to treat a planner like "the help" and respect them for the time they take to make you happy. They are qualified at their job and expect you to find comfort in knowing they won't let you down. Be good to your planner, and you can bet they will be wonderful to you.

Just remember these few rules, and your planning experience is sure to be delightful. And if you are looking for a planner to handle your special day you would be wise to contact Kerri at Kerri Mullis Events or check out Facebook page!

Tips For Toting Toddlers

I'm currently visiting my mom in Texas, and in just a couple days I will be making a flight out to Charlotte to visit some family. My plane route to get out there is a little crazy. And flying with a two year old just makes everything more complicated. I've traveled with my son many times by plane and I've figured out some wonderful ways to keep him amused while cruising at maximum altitude. Don't get me wrong, no matter what I give him, the plane ride will be a little stressful, what toddler wants to sit still for several hours? Here are a few tips I have learned to keep me, him, and the other passengers as sane as possible:

1. BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS. My son loves to sit and look at books, especially the touch and feel books. These can be found anywhere from Barnes and Noble to your local dollar store.
2. SNACKS AND JUICE. Nothing quiets a kid faster than their favorite snack and drink. My son shuts right up when I give him some gummy snacks and apple juice.
3. TALK IT OUT. My little boy is a very vocal child, and he enjoys having things he sees explained to him. Open the window at take-off and tell them what everything is/does.
4. WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS, MAKE SOME NOISE. You might think this one is a little insensitive to the passengers surrounding you and your little tike, but what you've got to realize is that airplanes are so very noisy. Once those engines get rolling, it is LOUD in there. If you are speaking at a normal level, aside from the person right next to you, nobody can hear what you are saying, as long as you aren't being exceptionally loud. This last one took me a while to feel comfortable with, but you finally get to the point where you just don't care. The other passengers (unless they are douche bags; See blog entry Crime and Punishment) they really don't mind your kid making some noise as long as they aren't being obnoxious about it. On just about every flight I have been on, I have been seated next to some grandparents that are itching for the company of little ones, so they have been happy to make silly faces and tell stories to my toddler to keep him entertained.
The main thing you have to remember when you are traveling with your kids, is to remain confident. Don't let them see you are stressed out that they are acting like they've lost their minds because they will hop on that like a hungry hyena. I once spent half of a flight curled on the bathroom floor of an airplane bathroom crying my eyes out because my son was freaking nuts. And he ate it up. He happily bounced on my lifeless frame giggling merrily because he was in control. As long as you can control your kids, don't let them see you sweat, and give them plenty of things to occupy their time, the flight won't be so bad. And the flight attendants usually give your kids free loot from their over priced menu too. So chin up buttercup, that six hour flight across the country will be cake. Xanex never hurt anybody did it ;)

Thinning The Herd

When you become a parent, everything about your life changes. I mean everything. Everything stops being about you and your children come first. You go to bed earlier than your grandma because you know you have to get up before the sun. You spend more nights at home with your family than you do out with your friends at a bar. Your wardrobe changes, your attitude changes, your perspective changes, and your friends aren't the same anymore. Or rather, you have changed too much in the eyes of your friends. Having children at a really young age is often tricky when it comes to your circle of compadres. You start to notice that they don't call you as much, you slowly stop receiving invitations to go out, and in some cases, they cease to be in your life at all. A friend of mine recently celebrated the life of his new baby boy. He stopped hanging around his friends as much because he had given up the lifestyle of partying all the time to stay at home with his fiance and their three kids. His friends pretty much rejected him and refused to come see his new addition. They were too focused on getting drunk and high and the couldn't understand why he didn't join in on the festivities. In my opinion, he made the right choice. As a father, he chose to be involved in the upbringing of his children, as he should have. The end result was his "friends" shunning him for it. I try to have empathy for the friends who don't have marriages or children because I know that it's hard, as an outsider, to try to understand that world, but what I don't understand is these people having a blatant disregard for parenthood and the responsibilities that come with it. To them, you give up your life when you have kids. To an extent, this is true, but that doesn't mean there is a ban on fun when you have children. Parents, especially young ones, still want to enjoy their youth. They want to have nights out without the kids, but not everynight every weekend. Just because a kid has come into the picture doesn't mean that person has given up their identity. It just means they have a new nametag to wear. When people ostracize their parent-friends, it's out of pure selfishness. There isn't an excuse to ditch the people you are close with just because you can't understand their decision to play an active role in their child's life. How would you have felt if your parents pawned you off to whoever would take you just so they could stay drunk with all their friends? You would feel shitty and unloved and you would resent your parents for it. You would think they didn't care about you enough to be involved in your life, you would feel unimportant and worthless. You think about that next time you shame your friends for picking their children over partying. Kids grow up so fast, and it's a truly remarkable thing to witness, especially when you are the one who created that life. It happens so quick that you don't even have time to process it all, and the next thing you know, your kids are in school and independent and grown up. These are years we can't get back with our kids. These are years that we want to cherish. You can't press rewind, you just have to make the most of it. And if that means weeding out the people in your life that can't deal with that, then it's for the best and they don't deserve to be a part of this experience with you. When I had my son, my husband had to go to training for the Marine Corps when our little boy was just two months old. And every single one of my friends who didn't have kids completely abandoned me because they couldn't fathom why I would rather spend a Friday night snuggled up with my little one instead of going out to the bar. It really hurt at first, but I realized that people are going to come and go in my life, but my son is going to be with me forever. Personally, that sounds a lot better than getting tanked with a bunch of "friends." Being a parent isn't easy and you have to make a lot of sacrifices, but you will never question if it was worth it when your child shows you love and gratitude for being there for them. It's the best feeling in the world and I would rather have that than a bunch of degenerate jerks for friends any day.

Another One Bites The Dust

Breaking news! Whitney Houston died! Wait, what? I thought she died like 10 years ago when she was so high on cocaine she couldn't remember her own name. I get it, she used to be this big shot singer. But that was a very long time ago. In the last decade(+) leading up to her death she was a drug riddled misfit that destroyed her vocal cords from the copious amounts of cocaine she abused. What I am trying to figure out is why she is getting so much publicity for this? SHE WAS AN ADDICT PEOPLE! She abused drugs, screwed up her career, and made a complete ass of herself. I get respecting the dead and all, but why is she being glorified? Nobody has given a shit about this woman in a very long time, and she has been the butt of many a blow joke so why does everybody care now? It's tacky when all the people who used to laugh at her expense are now her biggest mourners. She lived a druggie, and died in the same way. Why should she get so much attention for her demise when it was brought about by her own mistakes? I might have just a bit more compassion if she had made an honest attempt to get her shit together, but she didn't, and I don't think such stupidity should be glamourized. It's pathetic and shows just how ridiciulous and shallow people are. There are troops that die everyday in honor of their country, fighting for these idiots to continue living their lives in drug-induced states, and do you think they get the kind of respect and notorieity like Whitney and Amy Winehouse? That's a big hell no. People need to be more selective of their idols, because frankly, it's just pathetic that this woman, who put Charlie Sheen to shame with her drug use, is getting this kind of public attention, gets shown more gratitude in her death than the troops that were gunned down, or hit by IED's. Congrats, America, you have reduced yourselves to an all-time low. I so hope you are proud of yourselves.

A Prosti-Tot Epidemic

Can someone please tell me what happened to parents today that would prompt them to dress their daughters like midget hookers? I can't for the life of me fathom why grown ass adults would let their prepubescent daughters walk around with exposed ass cheeks and tube tops. What the frick happened to little dresses that covered undeveloped lady parts? Are you trying to pimp your kid out to earn some money for their college tuition, or what? I am absolutely appalled when I go to the mall on a Saturday and there are 10 year old girls walking around looking like a pack of brothel buddies. More and more frequently am I seeing the little girls section at Wal Mart turning into Baby Victoria's Secret. They are just asking for pedophiles to follow them around in their rape vans with FREE CANDY painted on the side. I want to bitch slap these parents who have daughters sashaying around in fishnets and shirts that say stupid stuff like "Sexy" or "/\ My Eyes Are Up Here." It makes me want to give my eyeballs a bleach bath. Please don't act like you're surprised when little Brittany is working the pole in a few years' time. I remember when I was younger, (just saying that sentence makes me feel old) and my mother not allowing me to leave the house if my little puppies were peaking out in the least. The worst part is, clothing designers are catering to this madness. Kudos to you for making prostiution rings in the middle east look like ring-around-the-rosie compared to some of the whore-happy get-ups you are parading you children around in. One of the big jobs of being a parent is protecting your child, and raising them to grow up as respectable adults. If it keeps going at this rate, the future of America is going to consist of nothing but strip clubs and dives even Heidi Fleiss wouldn't frequent. All these parents are doing is making their children easy prey and proper talent for Girls Gone Wild. Personally I think these god awful parents should be arrested for distributing child pornography because some of these outfits leave nothing to the imagination. And I don't want to hear the excuse that those are the only kinds of clothes out there for little girls anymore. I would be dressing my daughter in a burlap sack in a New York minute before I let her walk around in outfits that make Madonna blush. Janet Jackson's Super Bowl nip slip was more conservative than what most of the young female population is wearing today. All I'm saying is opt for t-shirts rather than halter tops before she becomes the next Glitter Tits at Twin Peaks because you are doing nothing but giving your daughter the idea that she is only as good as her ass looks in a Juicy sweat suit. I'm not a feminist by any means, but before your kid is being scouted for Playboy at the tender age of 12, you might want to rethink the sequined booty shorts, and let your kid make themselves known for their mind rather than their body. Teach her to have some respect for herself, if you don't, well don't kid yourself into thinking that anybody else will. I just hope you break through to her already serverly damaged psyche' before a porn producer does and she's stuck doing Debbie Does Dallas material.

The Bean-o Is Gone When The Ring Is On

Whoever planted the seed in men's heads that women don't fart, burp, sweat, or shit, you should personally thank yourself for contributing to this nation's steep divorce rate. It is almost comical, scratch that, incredibly hilarious, to watch a new relationship unfold. For some reason ladies seem to think men are dumb enough to believe that females are incapable of producing any kind of bodily function besides working the stove. They go through the trouble of eating like a bird, avoiding foods that make you gassy (so when you're getting down, you don't let one squeak out), and thanks to eating nothing but lettuce infused with air, your man is none the wiser when you tell him you don't poop. This goes on and on, and men just fuel that fire, because let's face it, they don't want to know that your colon is in full working order. And gents, this will continue to happen until you bring your little lady home from your honeymoon. That is when the real fun starts. Some little mechanism in a woman's brain clicks, and all of that shyness and secrecy just melts away. One day your husband comes home from work, and instead of a hot meal, he finds a feast from Taco Bell and a case of Bud Lite on that table. No big deal, he thinks. You sit down, eat, drink, and be some merry sons of bitches. About an hour after eating, there you are cuddled on the couch with your smitten husband, when those six bean burritos kick in and you rip a fart so loud it causes an avalanche in the Himalayas. By now your husband is thunder struck, that is until the smell hits him. You just giggle and name it Jounior and don't bat an eyelash while you're watching CSI. Fast forward to the two of you getting ready for bed. By now those beans are in full effect and you scamper off to pinch a loaf before you knock boots with hubby. And don't worry about a thing, you lost that shame when you said "I do!" so you just go right ahead and kick open that door, a girl needs ventilation after all. The icing on the cake is when you realize there is no toilet paper so you tell you husband ever so sweetly to bring you some, not bothering to tell him he's about to walk into a haz mat zone. Can you believe the nerve? When he was done retching he informed you that, no, your little mud angels do not smell like roses, and no, he does not want to see it. Congrats, you have officially ruined any ideals your husband had about you. And laughing about your flatulent symphony during sex did not help your situation. By now your husband has packed his bags and flew the coup so fast you can still smell the burning rubber in your driveway. This, ladies, is why I never sugar coated things when my husband and I were dating (I use that term lightly since, technically, we didn't go on our first date until the day after we got married.). When he started courting me, I was sure to inform him that I will swear like a sailor, eat like a trucker, and when nature calls, I answer with gusto. The physical acts of my bodily functions certainly didn't attract him, but my honesty about it did. He is completely okay that when I exert myself I sweat worse than a hooker in church, and I love him for that. And I have news for you finicky females out there, as long as you're not copping a squat in a public venue, it doesn't bother men one bit. In fact, it makes you seem a little bit more down to earth and they'll respect you for it. So step away from the bean-o, and let it fly.

From Dolce To Diapers

Ok so I never wore Dolce, but you would be amazed at the way your wadrobe changes when you have a kid. I went from wearing cute clothes, always having my hair and nails done, and meticulous make-up to t-shirts, yoga pants, messy buns, and a naked face. Unless you've got Super Nanny at your beck and call, you don't have time for that crap anymore. I'm lucky if I'm not wearing my shirt inside out. I once walked around a mall for two hours before realizing my pants were on backwards. I remember the days when I would flip out if I had a miniscule stain on my white shirt. It went from that, to purposely wearing white so you couldn't see the spit up so bad. If it's been a rough week, my system for checking for clean clothes is giving them a cursory sniff to make sure they don't smell like yesterday's dinner and deodorant. Being a parent means sometimes you just have to be gross. I remember going to lunch with a snobby former friend of mine right after I had my son. We went to a nice restaurant and I had tried my hardest to keep myself from looking like I hadn't just spent the last hour sleeping while standing up while my son took a nap. I even did my make-up, which is to say, I half-assed ran some mascara over my eyelashes and didn't even give it time to dry before I blinked. I was still wearing maternity jeans because my c-section the week before prohibited me from wearing normal pants and my black shirt had the ghost of baby vomit on it (I hadn't learned the white shirt trick yet). My friend was appalled upon first seeing me, but I told her to crank it out of her blow hole, I wasn't changing. We sit down to eat, so naturally my newborn wanted to as well. I got out my nifty little formula case and began preparing the bottle when the waitress knocked the container over, spilling the contents all over the table. It looked like a cocaine buffet in Cuba. I brought enough for two bottles and only about half of one remained in the little tub. So I scraped a little from the table, and was instantly reminded of a scene from some movie where some coked up whore was scouring the bathroom floor for some residue. Meanwhile, my son is screaming, or more accurately BAHHHH'ing like a baby billy goat, and my friend is looking at me like I've lost my mind. Then she asks me in her best impression of Ivanka Trump, "Are you really doing that, can't he just wait to eat until we get back home?" To which I replied, "Listen, Bess, the Chic-Fil-A calander shoot isn't going to be casting for any bovine talent anytime soon, so why don't you skip the meal as I'm sure your waistline won't mind, and take us home?" Well, needless to say, we aren't friends anymore. That happened alot over the course of the last two years. My single, childless friends just didn't understand how I could so easily give up Jack, Johnny, and Jim when they've been so good to me, to trade up for Pooh, Pampers, and Playskool. And they will never understand until they have a little bundle of joy of their own. It's a whole new world being a parent. I go to McDonald's for the play place now, and get two hours of sleep a night with enough bags under my eyes to stock pile a jumbo jet because of my kid and not a night of partying. I think I've worn heels a total of five times since I gave birth, and believe me, I didn't want to. I was concerned for myself at first, especially when I saw some new moms that still looked like they had just waltzed off the pages of a Hooters calendar, and their hair was perfectly coiffed and make up to the nines. But once I realized they either had a nanny, xanex, and/or a trip to the plastic surgeon, I didn't feel so bad about myself. It's gotten better the older my son has got. I have more than 30 seconds to get ready, but not much more. And not to sound cocky, but I can have a cute up-do, a nice outfit, and basic make-up in five minutes or less. Dominos don't have shit on me. I commend other parents, we all share the common enemy: sleeplessness. And I've come to realize I almost pity the ones that try to keep up with their kidless counterparts. All that time that you spend making yourself supermodel ready is time you could have spent with your child. I wouldn't trade this time with my son for a truck full of Coach bags. And nothing is better than having an excuse to wear yoga pants 24/7 ;)

Hi, My Name Is....

Raising a son and being a wife have been the best things to ever happen to me. I have gained monumentous responsibility, a little more wisdom about life, and a couple new titles. But those titles seem to be the only thing I am known for anymore. I know I'm not the only one with this problem. I know if you have kids and/or a husband you are going AMEN SISTER right about now. It's a part of life. I am to be known as Brody's mom and Beau's wife forever. But Amanda (that's me) is still in there too folks. And boy does she have a lot to say. I've always been what most people would refer to as a loud mouth. Not that I'm loud, but I don't let thoughts slosh around too long in the 'ol noggin before they come spilling out head over heels. The honest to god truth is though, I have lost myself a little bit in the madness of getting married (while I was three months pregnant, it wasn't a shotgun wedding so quiet your titters) and having a baby and my husband leaving and staying gone for the military and raising my son by myself. Hello, that's enough to give even the strongest of the estrogen community some gray hairs. I'm finally getting to the point where I have some sort of grasp on my own identity. It may feel like I lose grip and I'm free falling right back into nameless-hood, but the grip is getting stronger day by day. I sometimes think I am silly because even though my husband is gone A LOT, I still have one. He is my biggest cheerleader, if you can call an almost 200 pound brick shithouse a cheerleader, and he has supported me through everything and is so proud for all that I have accomplished at home while he's holding down the fort overseas. I say silly because I have plenty of friends who are single parents, and most of them have more than one kid and they rock it. I know they have their moments when it's just toooo much, but girlfriends got it goin on. I feel like I have it easy compared to a lot of the parents out there, and this realization is what gave me the extra little push to remind myself to take some ME time, and to remember my name without having to look at my driver's license for a prompt. That's why I started this blog. I use to be an avid writer in high school. I was always writing some new play or short story, and this lady always had something to say and I just stopped. This blog has become my second child. I'm building it a little bigger day by day, and each post I publish it's more liberating than a bra burning in the '60's. It is unbelievable to me how much I have realized about myself since I started writing again. It's like having an arm re-attached that I didn't know was missing until I tried to use it again. This has been about putting some things on the back burner for a little bit and letting my life go from a simmer to a full, rolling boil again. It's important to do that when you have bigger titles in your life like "mom" and "wife." If you don't recognize that there is a person in there that has bigger dreams than doing the dishes before it's time to change another diaper you start to forget who you were and what you wanted before you had kids. Things that shouldn't stop just because you are a parent. If you forget them, everything else will take over your life and you will be bitter and you will resent yourself and the people that share life with you. It might be something like this blog here, or a Friday night with just you, some margaritas, and the girls, but everybody needs that not-so-gentle kick in butt sometimes to get you going. This blog is my stepping stone into something bigger, and for that, I'm starting to say my own name a few more times a day than I did before. You know, the days that I can remember what it is anyway.

Uncle Sam Is My Pimp

Since the name of my blog has to do with me being a Marine wife, I figured I would actually do a post that involves being married to the military. The life of a Marine wife is absolutely nothing like I expected it to be. I went into this thinking that it was going to be a lot easier than what it turned out to be. My husband has been in for two years as of January 25th and it feels like it's been so much longer than that. The little picture I had in my head was pretty much a joke. I figured my husband would go to boot camp for three months and it would be a breeze. I thought I was going to die while he was gone. Then he graduated and he had ten days before he had to report to the next leg of training, which lasted a month. He didn't get any leave after his combat training and went directly into MOS school. That time period was a little bit easier to deal with. He had weekends off so we saw each other a couple times a month and we could actually talk on the phone as opposed to writing letters like we had been for four months. He graduated from MOS in August of 2010 and we found out we were being stationed in California, which was at the complete opposite side of the country we wanted to be on. I wasn't as bummed out about going because I was used to moving and I have become accustomed to living far from my realitves. We were under the impression that the military was going to pay for that move, but we were incorrect. So my son and I stayed behind in North Carolina while my husband checked into Camp Pendleton, California. He called me the day he checked in and gave me the news that every wife dreads hearing: he was going to Afghanistan for his first deployment. I was terrified, I didn't know what to expect. I knew virtually nothing about the war except that there seemed to be a new casuality every day. I elected to stay in NC for the duration of the deployment. I was so miserable. I was depressed, and it just seemed like I would never see my husband again. It was really hard on our marriage. We had just hit our first anniversary while he was in combat training. Most of our marriage has been spent apart because of him being in the Corps. Not to mention our son was only two months old when he shipped for boot camp. When he came home from deployment in May of 2011 he was a year and a half old. Once he got back, we finally packed our stuff and moved into our home at Camp Pendleton. Little did I know that he had already received orders to deploy again. I only had him for six months before he left. Between about seven months of training, and a seven month deployment, plus another seven month tour six months later, it just took it's toll on us. Our son is now two and my husband has missed the vast majority of his life because of it. He wasn't there for him learning to sit up on his own, or to crawl, his first steps, or his first real word. Not for him coming off the bottle, or for his first birthday. I can't stress to people just how hard it is to have this life. I know exactly two people in California besides my own family. I come home as often as I can. I hate to see girls who agree to get into relationships with military men. That's all they know. I was lucky to have been married to my husband beforehand so I could compare what was normal and what was a side effect of the Corps. It's so easy to let all the stress and drama consume you in this life. I absolutely can't stand women who leave servicemen while they are deployed, or because they face the prospect of deploying and chalk it up to being too hard. I may have been naive about alot of things when it came to the military in the beginning, but I wasn't ignorant enough to think it was going to be a cake walk. Ladies, first let me say, if you are trying to pursue a relationship with a man in uniform because you think it's glamourous and you want the benefits and money, you are not only a horrible person, but you are in for a rude awakening because you can get with a manager at McDonalds that makes better money than our troops here. Second, if you are going into a relationship with a guy who rocks those dog tags, you better get it in your head right now that he might as well have PROPERTY OF US GOVERNMENT tattooed on his forehead because the military comes first. Corps, Country, Family in that order and don't forget it. With that being said, it's not all bad. It had given us a pretty good life, and has allowed my husband to take care of his family. It comes with a price though, and that must never be forgotten. If you have any doubt in your head, no matter how small, that you couldn't deal with the constant lonliness, the gut wrenching fear of seeing that uniformed car pulling up to tell you some heart breaking news, or the strength and patience it takes to get through the deployments, reconnecting, and disconnecting, and the post traumatic stress, then you need to find someone else. Don't get me wrong, it took me a while to toughen my skin, but I never thought for a second that my husband wasn't worth it. You have to be prepared for anything. And you always need to remember that you are as much in the military as your man. You may not put on that uniform, but you give him the strength to. You carry that title proud. And when you feel like you have nobody in this world, you just remember that they're are millions of people in this life with you and they are as much a part of your family now as your mom, dad, brother, and sister. I have never been more proud of my husband than I am now, and even with the fear and worry, I wouldn't change a thing because we are so much stronger for it. This ain't Army Wives, everything doesn't always work out the way you want it, but such is life. I am a damn proud wife to a United States Marine, and to me, camis, boots, and high and tights are a way better super hero uniform to me than a stinkin cape and tights any day ;)