Hubby and I went out to dinner last night because we had a babysitter. As in a high school student we paid money to watch our child. I feel like a real mommy now. Peanut had a good time showing off all his toys, barely fussed when we left, and when we asked him this morning if he liked her, he said her name several times -a very good sign.

When Hubby and I got to the restaurant, I started feeling funky with a weird out-of-body tingly feeling I sometimes get before getting sick. When we started eating, I immediately felt nauseous. Hubby and I sat and talked while he finished his dinner, we boxed up my leftovers (nearly the whole meal) and headed home. I practically ran to the bathroom. I felt miserable for the rest of the evening with the trots and nausea. I’m still off this morning, but managed some toast and ginger ale for breakfast.

I rear ended someone on the drive to work. His car had a few scratches, mine a crack in the bumper and the tire alignment is definitely off. The other driver didn’t want to exchange info or report the accident as his was an older model car. I called Hubby and gave the tag number just in case. I’m thankful nobody was hurt and the damage is minor, but now we need to get the alignment fixed and the bumper checked, maybe replaced. Hubby was a sweetheart about the whole thing and is going to ask around for a reputable body shop. I know of one good place, but they’re usually really busy.

Once I got to work, my period started and I only have one stinkin’ teeny tampon. Guess I’ll be running out over lunch to stock up.

Hubby is going to research a daycare place closer to our home, one that was recommended by a couple of people. He ran into an acquaintance who used to send their child to our daycare and pulled him out earlier this year. They had similar complaints against the teacher we’ve had issues with, but the daycare never did anything about it. He was in her classroom, so they removed him. The daycare will move one of only 2 African American teachers to a different classroom when parents complain about her sharing food among the kids, but they don’t take care of a situation with a white teacher who regularly yells at the kids and is generally unfriendly. We’ll see how the other place seems. Crotchety Teacher has been friendlier and seemingly kinder to the kids since Hubby complained, but we’re keeping vigilant.

The topic I really wanted to write about is this story I heard this morning. In the military and got PTSD from your service in Iraq? Better not try to get help for it. There’s a chance your supervisors will deny permission to attend counseling. You also risk being made fun of, treated like shit, or being discharged.

One sergeant admitted to denying service members permission to leave training for therapy appointments. His reasoning is that training is more important and a lot of service people fake PTSD to get out of redeployment. He has no problems after serving in Iraq. He lost friends, but he’s just fine. Everyone else should be just fine, too. No other supervisors from the base would comment.

The enlisted guy who complained about being denied permission to attend therapy appointments had a medical evaluation something along the lines of: Suffering severe PTSD, is taking it our on his wife and needs therapy.” Just how is he taking it out on his wife? Yelling at her? Threatening her? You’d think the military would be a bit more cautious about situations like this.

I wonder if our military is hoping for another generation of Vietnam vets. You know, the ones you see on street corners with signs reading “Homeless vet. Hungry. God Bless.”