I like to look through the newspaper on Saturdays and Sundays to find out what is going on in our area and make appropriate plans.  I usually don't read the movie reviews very often - rare is the day when I actually agree with one; the main reason for that being that I usually demand a happy ever after of some sort.  I get enough "gritty reality" in day to day life, in my fantasy world I like things to turn out awesome every time. 

For some reason, though, I found myself reading the review for the second Nanny McPhee movie.  My kids loved the first movie, and I'm pretty sure we'll be seeing the second one (albeit on Netflix rather than mortgaging our home further for a night at the theater).  I was truly interested to learn that the plot of the new movie includes a father away at war.

That sounds like something my kids will definitely relate to - and something that we don't often find done in an engaging and child-appropriate manner.  I also think, judging from their partiality to the children in the Narnia movies and Sarah in  A Little Princess,  it's something that my children want to see more of.  As I read the review, though, something interesting jumped out at me.

In the words of the Washington Post reviewer:

There are mature themes about the possibility of losing a father in war, and magical Nanny McPhee, with her facial warts, bad teeth, black garb, thudding cane and burping crow companion, could scare some kids 6 and younger.

I have never considered having a father away at war a "mature theme."

That doesn't mean that I think the reviewer was wrong to label it as such, or that I have my unmentionables in a bunch over the fact that the warning was thrown in there.  I had just never thought of it in that way because that's really the only mental state my children have ever known.  And it just is for them.   Our Venn diagram overlaps the civilian one in some places, but I think that this is one place where there is no meeting.

Once again, I don't mean that in a bad way.  I think that many civilians are tremendously sensitive to the life military families are living while our country is at war.  I live in a civilian neighborhood right now, and the amount of support I was given during Air Force Guy's latest deployment was simply incredible.  I had people to fix electrical issues that showed up in my house on a moment's notice and without charge.  I had people to check on me, and my children's coaches and sports teams were aware of our situation and made huge allowances for the activities I could participate in.  I could never have survived the last year without going completely insane without their unwavering support. 

But I think that the emotional toll and the things we must do to survive at home during deployments just can't be translated, they can't truly be understood, unless it is a shared experience.  The horror and -even worse and to my vast humiliation- the pity in some of the looks I get when something big goes down down-range show that gulf.  The "I don't know how you do it!" and "I could never do that!" comments, the sudden quiet of a conversation about the war when my children are noticed to be in ear-shot...  They all line up exactly with the review of Nanny McPhee Returns: a mature theme. 

When to us, it is just life.  And there is comfort for us and for our children in seeing someone else who is living that life as well.

As you may know, we recently moved and had the pleasure of living in the Navy Lodge for several weeks.  One of the great things about living there was that you were always running into other people who were moving in or out - in the elevator, in the lobby, or in the Mini-Mart.  Friendships were made in that lobby, and there was a lot of learning going on.  My kids were forever trying to pull me away from conversations, but those conversations were important:  how else was I going to learn where to find decent Chinese food, or not to let the movers assemble your furniture, or that Family X had decided not to take that fabulous house with the big terrace but it wasn't back on the market yet?

Fortunately, talking comes easy for me.  I could talk to my furniture if I had no other choices.  I know it is hard for a lot of people and I wish I had some magic potion that could make it easier, for there is a real benefit to having random conversations with people.  It is amazing how much knowledge can be gleaned from sitting (or standing) around gabbing.

In the military world, much of the important stuff you need to learn about your new home isn't going to show up in the welcome aboard packet or the newcomers' brief, but it is going to come from personal relationship.  As the smart Maintenance Toad once said at a SpouseBUZZ Live, (and I am paraphrasing here), "Don't sit in the corner in the dark.  Get out and meet some people."

Even if you don't like people, and you don't like talking, think of it as exercise in learning new stuff.  For example, at the bus stop this morning, I learned where to buy firewood and that you can call ahead to the gate guards if you are on the way to the emergency room.  We unfortunately don't have a fireplace but we do have a fondness for the ER, so I'm glad to learn that stuff.  Sure, I was at the bus stop for an extra half hour, but it was time well spent.

I was going to ask what was the most useful thing that you've ever learned from a casual conversation, but if that seems boring to you, what is the craziest thing you've ever learned and actually used?

I'm feeling a little deployment-centric again this week.  I'll try to change things up a little next week! :)

Over the years here at SB, we've hit on anticipatory grief more than once.  Here's a post by Jess over at ...and we live as lions touching on it yet again.

When JD is deployed, I can certainly put myself in a bubble, so to speak.  Jill over at A Troop's Girl writes about her Deployment Bubble and how being in one can keep us from seeing all of the other kinds of bubbles people are stuck in around us.

She Who Waits writes about her hubby returning home from his third deployment and the little things that are [sort of] bothering her.  I get it and I'm sure many of you will, too. 

You know how Marines hate to be called Soldiers? Well, when I was watching the news reports of the President's visit to Ft. Bliss this week, I realized I knew exactly how they felt. I found myself cringing time and time again as reporters kept referring to Ft. Bliss as a "base."

I realize that the other branches have "bases," but we Army folk have "posts." And though I've never had the inclination to go postal over it, it's always irritated me a bit to hear our posts referred to as bases because, well, I'm an Army wife. And it's not a base. It's a post. And I wish reporters, at least, would get it right.

I threw a blurb out on Twitter about my pet peeve and a conversation ensued among several of us. Some asked what the difference was, and it's really just one of terminology. Then it was my turn for a lesson in military sub-culture. As we amicably chatted back and forth, one of the Navy wives mentioned that it was funny that she called a post a base, but always called a PX a PX and never a BX or NEX. A N-E what, I asked. I had no idea there was a difference between a BX and an NEX. In fact, I'm not sure I even knew what an NEX was!

The whole back and forth struck me as funny. It's often said that the military has its own culture, and I certainly agree with that, but I've never really thought much about the various sub-cultures. Each branch has their own acronyms, their own way of doing things and, apparently, their own name for their Military Wal-Mart. 

Air Force Guy has been back from deployment for about a week and a half now.  So, on one hand - YAY!  It's been great to have him back - that worry you scrunch down to the bottom of your stomach?  I feel strangely light now that it's gone.  That insomnia that was keeping me up until three or four in the morning?  I'm usually asleep by 11 at the latest now.  And - as all deployment veteran wives know, the *ahem* frustration level has dropped to nothing (although we still have months to make up for, and I do plan on making them up). 

Life is good.

On the other hand...

Now, I don't mean to complain here, and I hope everyone can take this in the vein that it is intended.  But Holy Santa on Roller Skates! having another person in the house takes some getting used to!  Just for starters, this morning I woke up ready to have at my Raisin Bran with almond milk... and the almond milk was gone!  Frustrating.  Totally. 

Also, there is a distinct lack of electrical outlets in the bathroom now.  I had forgotten how much shaving paraphernalia one man needs, and they have edged out my hair dryer in a focused and well planned flanking maneuver that took me completely by surprise.  My bathroom electronics are relegated to underneath the sink now. 

AFG and I do not agree on the best routes to take to get places.  I like back roads, he is willing to risk the capricious whims of the DC area traffic on highways.  And while my normal woman sized shoes do not take up too much room in the entryway, his supersized man shoes seem to stretch across the entire hallway and sneak up to trip me every time we go in or out of the door.  

In short, even though the TV shows and newspaper coverage like to end their homecoming stories with that awesome first kiss on home soil, that is most certainly not the end of it of for us - we have reintegration.  And it can be a doozy.

This is our umpteenth reintegration in Air Force Family, and by this point we've developed some rather finely tuned senses about how it will go.  I don't think this one will be too bad - we've got the regular adjustments to make, but nothing that will drag on or cause overly intense moments.  Don't get me wrong - we've been in that place, too, and on both sides.

When AFG returned from a rather intense 4 months of training, which he left for just a few months after returning from Iraq, I spent six months feeling like I was walking on eggshells.  I was the odd person out - not in the military and not in the civilian world, either.  Everyone was thanking AFG for his service, everyone wanted to take him out to dinner, and I was not a part of the "Buddy Club" that military members develop amongst themselves.  In short - I was along for the ride and to take care of laundry.  And I resented it tremendously.  I felt that AFG deserved the attention he was getting without a doubt, he had been putting his life on the line.  But I also kind of wished that people would see that I was not merely a passenger in the whole journey.  I felt like no one noticed that AFG was able to put on his super suit and go save the world because I was willing to change my own life-plans to allow for holding down the home-front while AFG was gone.  I kind of wished people had offered to take ME out to dinner while he was gone and I needed a serious break from kids and some adult conversation.  I never said it, because I felt guilty for secretly wanting (but not really wanting, if you know what I mean) some attention and a back pat for what I was doing and giving up as well.  And, I'll be honest here, sometimes I was downright jealous that my part of the military family equation had as much inherent sexy coolness as a dose of Metamucil.  And at the same time  I felt guilty about feeling like that way, as well.

Air Force Family also had a reintegration that went the other direction - where the odd person out was the person who was returning, Air Force Guy.  During one deployment his mother lost her mind.  Literally.  She full scale descended into dementia while AFG was in Afghanistan, and I spent the entire length of his deployment trying to move a crazy, angry, Russian woman with unbounded hatred for her daughter-in-law (me) into a care facility that could, and was willing to, care for her.  There were lawyers, there were ombudsmen, there were social workers, and it all culminated in a a plane trip across the country with four children and a pit bull to move her (did I mention she bites?), clean out her house, and figure out what to do with it.  All by myself, since AFG has no siblings and his mother is widowed.  And let me add here that the elder care system in the United States is not set up to deal with issues that arise with elderly family members while service-members are deployed. 

I was not in a good place when AFG came home, and this time he was the one who felt like walking on eggshells for six months.

That homecoming kiss definitely does not mean happily ever after. 

It does mean, though, that we can finally move on to start ever after.  And that is something.