A million years ago, I was a litigation attorney with a bright professional future and significant earning potential. That was before I married a Navy man and began moving to U.S. states and foreign countries where my law licenses weren’t worth the paper on which they were printed.

Despite these challenges, I maintained hope that one day, I’d rekindle my law career. However, military family life marched on, and it wasn’t until our youngest entered high school after our ninth move that I drafted a new résumé.

That day, I dropped the kids at school, then grabbed the only available table at Starbucks -- next to the restrooms. When I had something important to do, I couldn’t start until I spent a requisite amount of time dawdling. So, I removed crumpled gum wrappers from my purse, checked email and people-watched.

Finally, I opened a blank document, sighed dramatically and thought, “The kids are old enough now. It’s time to find a paying job.”

“RÉSUMÉ [return] ... Lisa Smith Molinari,” I keyed onto the top of the page. I picked up steam, quickly tapping out my address, phone number and email, adding aesthetically pleasing fonts, underlining and bold. After a few thumps on the return key, I typed “EDUCATION” and enjoyed a trip down memory lane to the ivy-tangled architecture of Miami of Ohio, and the endless racks of thick casebooks at Thomas Cooley Law School in Michigan.

I added “law review” and “cum laude,” feeling a surge of confidence.

But, no sooner did I type “WORK EXPERIENCE” when my hands began to tremble. “It’s just the caffeine,” I thought, and strained to recall the details of my last paying job.

“Hmm … was it 1995? When I worked for that law firm in California while Francis was assigned to the Naval Postgraduate School? I can’t put a job from two decades ago on my résumé … I’ll be a laughingstock!” I realized that, since marrying my Navy husband in 1993, I had no paid “work” experience except a few short-lived legal jobs between military moves. Recognizing that my skinny vanilla latte had nothing to do with my shaking hands, I pressed on, trying my best to make 25 years as a stay-at-home military mom read like a thriving professional career.

As I filled my résumé gap with various volunteer gigs I’d had through the years, I tsked. How is a milspouse supposed to convince an employer that she is capable of a challenging job because managing an active duty military family IS her “work experience”?

Despite the bonbons-and-soap-operas stereotype for stay-at-home parents, any milspouse who has successfully managed a full household through stateside and overseas moves, lengthy deployments and various TDYs, broken hot water heaters, clogged gutters, HHG damage claims, Scout meetings, soccer tournaments, EFMP paperwork, orthodontist appointments and parent-teacher conferences -- is most definitely worthy of gainful employment.

I resisted the urge to add the cutesy moniker “Domestic Engineer” in hopes that potential employers would respect me for putting my own career aside to help my husband serve his country. Instead, under the heading “REMARKS,” I wrote, “Despite gaps in my job history, I have always exemplified hard work and dedication, whether as a lawyer, writer, volunteer, mother or military spouse,” pounding the period button with a self-righteous poke.

A few years later, I gave up my job search because each promising lead had ended in final-round rejections due to “lack of work experience.” Instead, I co-founded a military nonprofit, Orion Military Scholarships, and created my own dream job, helping military children find stable educational experiences.

Frankly, I’d grown tired of “mil-splaining” the impact that active duty Navy life had on my career to civilian employers who would never understand what I knew — that military life requires higher-level competence, determination, selflessness, work ethic and executive problem-solving skills.

Employers, when considering a military spouse, don’t mind the gap. Being frequently moved to new locations, managing complex circumstances and shepherding a family through constant unknowns gives milspouses the gritty “must-do/can-do/will-do” mentality that you’d do well to appreciate.

Read more at themeatandpotatoesoflife.com and in Lisa’s book, “The Meat and Potatoes of Life: My True Lit Com.” Email: meatandpotatoesoflife@gmail.com