Fun With Side Effects! Yay!

I would probably be a bad mother if I continue to giggle as my son has the skin crawlies/twitches from his new ADHD medicine right? I guess I’ll try to keep the snorts to a minimum, but he he’s jerking around and looking like he got a bad batch of something. Luckily between laughter I was able to tell him he wasn’t crazy and it was a side effect I’d seen in children before.

It happened Thursday (about a week of him taking the meds). He’s sitting at the table, playing and online game while I relax on the couch, doped up for my back. I glance over at him as he twitches, shakes it off, then twitches again.

Me: what the heck is wrong with you?

Monster Teen: I’ve been feeling like something was crawling on me all day! But there’s… Nothing. *twitch, twitch*

Me: *pause as I think, lightbulb!, stands up and points at him* oh snap! Stephen Mtyzplizk!

Monster Teen: whaaaa?

Let me explain. Once upon a time before I joined the military, I spent a little more than a year as a pre-school teacher. If the pay had been better I might have never left, although I always wanted to join the military. Anyways, during that year I was pretty much a teacher for the 4/5-year-old class, those that would go on to Kindergarten next year. A class of 24, and there’s only on person’s name I remember: Stephen Mtzylpltzik (the name has been changed to protect the innocent and not so innocent). Stephen, from his mother account, had severe ADHD. I’m not so sure about that. I just know in my 17/18-year-old mind, I thought he might truly be the Anti-Christ.

Stephen would come in screaming and crying and trying to run away everyday. He’d yell at everyone, saying he hated them. Even his mother. He’d grab the edges of the front door and scream as his mother tried to remove his fingers and we tried to pull him in and close our security door. We’d try to distract him as we got him into class. Usually that would only end in bribing with chocolate chip cookies (mother approved).

Stephen would also take his dose of Ritalin that morning at the daycare. Why his mother didn’t give it to him at home, I don’t know. I do remember it being chew-able and apparently nasty flavored because he needed juice and another cookie to get the taste out of his mouth. And then he would begin to act like a normal child… For a couple of hours anyway. But boy oh boy would the side effects start to kick in.

He didn’t want to eat lunch. No appetite. And he couldn’t take a nap. He’d sit there on his mat rocking back and forth, picking scabs. Stephen would pick at his skin until his nose, scalp, and arms bled. And after nap time, when it was outside, or indoor play time, well that’s when he really lost his teacups. Stephen hallucinated. And it wasn’t anything pretty. He saw bugs… What he called buggies, everywhere. His scratching went up a level, he’d start to twitch like a crackhead missing a dose, and he’d mumble under his breath about the buggies. Before you feel sorry for him, around this time of day he also became an extra from Children of the Corn. He’d push, pinch, hit, trip, make cry all the other students he could whenever the teacher’s eyes weren’t directly on him. And I will admit that after trying the nice tactic of moving him gently away and softly trying to tell him that we don’t hurt our friends… well one day I finally lost MY teacups dealing with him. To be fair, this was after a week of writing incident reports, him cutting out 666 and pasting it as his artwork one day, and getting injured trying to keep him under control. I began to use his hallucinations against him. I told him I could make the buggies appear if he didn’t behave. And once I told him that, they didn’t actually “appear” to him unless I told him they were there when he was terrorizing another child. The power of suggestion for the muthafrackin win!

Anyway, I really expect to see Stephen Mtzyplzk as a Senator or serial killer one day. As for my monster teen, I explained that all to him, and said that his twitches were probably normal as he got used to his meds, but to tell his doc about it at his next appointment. Of course my son said I’m evil for how I treated Stephen, but how should you treat a real life demon child in your class? Monster Teen luckily only has the one side effect. If he starts drawing 666 though, this test of ADHD medicine is at its end!

Girly Men… The Rise of the Metro… And my thoughts on it

Let me be clear right now. This is in no way a post about LGBT men. This is all about straight boys and men. And my thoughts on them losing their identity.

Being a woman raising a young man is a truly trying situation. And many women end up fracking those boys up. And with the rise of single mothers, I think this is also we have a larger generation of punk men. My son also has the fact that he’s a black man against him. You can’t argue the facts of how many are in prison. But, I’m rambling. Kinda. Maybe.

Anyway, some single women raise their boys like how they always fantasized the men who knocked them up should be. Some baby the heck out of their boys with a subconscious fear that they will leave them like the other men in their life. First off: your son is not your man, or boyfriend, or husband. That is gross and the beginning of either incest porn, or your child becoming a serial killer.

They also do not instill the fact that you have to work for things. I can’t believe how many times I’m met with surprise that I don’t take out the trash, clean my son’s room, wash dishes, or wash my son’s clothes. Those are HIS chores. He also knows basic cooking skills. And he’s been doing all of this for a while now. Why? So he doesn’t expect a woman to take care of him. So he can stand on his own two feet.

The other thing parents seem to be teaching their sons is that it’s never their fault and that the rules in place do not apply to them. How many times have I heard or read online some mother (and sometimes father) complaining that their child should be excused for their actions, or that a teacher was rude for not caving to a parent’s expectations. Let’s not even go into the “everyone’s a winner so no child is left out feeling like a loser mentality.” Or, its okay for Johnny (probably spelled JahnNee because that’s what’s hot nowadays) to stay in and play video games instead of going outside and playing. I mean, you don’t want your little precious to get dirty right?

So it’s my belief that with those combinations of things, more men are being raised to be soft men. Its okay now for men to look more like girls than girls. It’s okay that they expect the world to be handed to them. Why can’t a man carry a purse and eyeliner and pants tighter than mine? I’ll tell you why:

Because when I’m a military female and have your soft-*ss son as my troop that cries when he gets told off for not having his hair cut to the standards, when he cries at being made to work longer hours, cries when they failed because they’ve never failed at ANYTHING at life – well I’m tempted to check if their balls have dropped.

My son is not allowed skinny jeans. He is made to respect women, and knows that the one thing I will turn into a monster about is it he does. My son is not my friend. He is my child that I raise to be strong and self-sufficient. My son knows at 18 he can go straight to work or go to college but he is getting the frack out of my house. My son knows that yes, having emotions and being able to express them are okay, but no one takes a male blubbering all over the place seriously (women either). My son knows that he should accept people for who they are, but at the same time he must decide who HE is and what HE stands for on his own. He knows life is not fair, and that you must work for what you want. He may slip up here and there and make me want to bust him upside the head for things, but I have to let him learn from his mistakes. One day my son will make a woman very happy to be his wife. Heck, even if some day later he decides he’s gay, he’ll make a man happy to be his partner. Because he will not be weak.

Black Girl’s Curse: Hairgate, Hairpocalypse, and Hairpolitics

Well… that convention took a while to recover. Didn’t even get my hair braided last weekend, and had to wait a whole week… and because of that:

Yeah, hmmm. Touchy subject I’m about to give my opinion on. But I give a flying frackadoodle what people think… Uh, hardly ever. And it’s my hair, and I’m going to talk about it. So there!

Now that I’ve gotten that out the way…

Brown crayon women like to make a big deal about their hair. Whether it’s don’t touch it because she just got it pressed/permed/straightened/ or “did”, or oh my god she got the “big chop” and got rid of the trappings of European beauty! And God forbid if you’re on the other side of what they believe about what is the BEST thing to do for black hair!

So I’ve been “natural” for over 10 years. That means no hair relaxer/ hair straightener. But only those in the know, actually know because I keep my hair pretty much in braids. And some of those that are part of the Afropublican side of the United States of Black Hair, well, they say I’m still not a true member because I hide my ‘fro. Of course, Permocrats are no better, because they love the “creamy crack” (hair relaxers) and weaves with a vengeance, to the point that their hairline is messing up satellites when the sun and moonlight hits their huge foreheads.

I’m an independent runner in this great debate. I stopped getting relaxers in my head so long ago because it only kept my hair straight and comb-able for probably 2-3 weeks. There’s nothing like trying to fix your hair in the morning and feeling the Fail when you cannot get it through your reverted roots. They scream “Africa! Africa!” as you slather more chemicals to beat that natural tight curl into submission. So even knowing that you should only the relaxer in 4-6 weeks, you’re at the salon the next day hoping your hair doesn’t fall out.

And some might say “Well dimensionthe5th, couldn’t you just wait another week? NO! I refuse at any time to look like a “nappy headed hoe”. Not to say I’m judging every chick out there that has about 4 inches of afro and then straight hair hanging in a ponytail. Wait, I AM, but I also understand that they may not always have the time or money to get it done right away. I mean, while deployed, I’ve rocked the short fro. No way I’m sitting in someone’s hut in the desert for hours on end getting my hair braided. I might even throw in a texturizer or two to loosen my curls and make it a tad bit more manageable.

But this is where the Afropublican’s scream foul. A texturizer? That just creamy crack light! Chemical’s chemicals, you’re killing your poor Nubian hair. Pffft. Do you know what happens to a big afro in the sandbox with a kevlar helmet? You come back inside looking like Roots: The War Version. No thank you. And for the Permocrats, nope, not on your side either while deployed. Just think, sweating all day long, possibly with no running water. I’d rather have a short texturized fro to wash with a couple of bottles of water.

Ah… So my hair is re-braided, yes I spent over 200, just like I do every 1 to 2 months (and got to watch some awesome Nollywood. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, look it up. It’s weirdawesome). But like I said, I’m independent. I don’t care what you do with your hair, so why should you give a frack about mine? I pay for it, I take care of it. I don’t need to join any side of debate. Like I’ve been told and have said to others before: I don’t have to do anything but stay black and die 😉

… And pay taxes.

Dangit.

Anime Convention Afterglow and Hangover… From the Mind of a 30-Something

First off: “permanent” marker is A LIE. It does not stay on my chocolaty-ness. And that is needed when you are cosplaying someone with snakes all up and down their arms!

This year marks my second convention that I actually attend and not live vicariously through my younger sister. My first convention was in Korea. I of course was the only brown crayon person there. I got a lot of people asking to take photos (I think because of the fact of my brown-ness). My cosplay wasn’t that glamorous since I borrowed from a friend. But I had so much fun! Posing for pictures even when it was freezing outside.

And now, I can say that I’ve cosplayed in the USA. Wow. First off, I really feel like a true cosplayer after last-minute having to create a costume that should have been finished. What had happened was… My costume was too tight. I had ordered online a large, because I know I’m curvier than a stick figured woman. BUT, with my change in working out (evil back with a mind of its own) I’ve acquired more junk in the trunk, and of course the toddlers for thighs. So, when I tried on the Medusa Gorgon (Soul Eater) jumper two nights before the event, my butt said “ahahaha. NO.” What to do? Run to the store the next day after work to grab a black hoodie and work out capris. Take the white snake eyes and tail off the costume I bought, and sew them onto the hoodie. Cut the sleeves off. Paint nails black. Use nametags colored yellow and cut into arrows for my nail vector snake thingies. Add water and stir. Instant costume! Yay!

It was my son’s first convention also, and boy did it make him LOVE me! Lol. See, I’d said years ago he was allowed to go to conventions when he was living with my mom, but she never allowed him to go with my sister and brother. Probably scared that they wouldn’t really take care of him. So, I got to show the Monster Teen the joys myself. I paid for a very detailed and well done Assassin’s Creed costume. My reasoning for shelling out the big bucks was that he could reuse the costume for more conventions and renn faires. Then I convinced a friend that had accidentally bought two hidden blades to let me buy one  from him for the Monster Teen to use.

Dear Lord, at times it seemed we were stopped every second for the MT to have his photo taken! He was a very good young Ezio, and played his character very well. I think I’ve created a monster, Monster Teen. He even ended up in two Harlem Shake YouTube videos, one with about 5-10 Assassin Creed cosplayers.

My worries about being looked down on for playing a peachier character with my brown crayon skin seemed mostly unfounded. I do feel like a couple of people dressed as a character from the same anime seemed to try to ignore me on purpose when I waved/tried to get their attention. Which is just rude. But I’ve decided that I refuse to not play a character just because of the color of my skin. My sister hasn’t all these years, so why should I? And that would be the worst kind of example to the Monster Teen, when I’m trying to make sure he understands that being a geek, whether its comics, anime, video games, books, etc, is a thing to be proud of.

Anyway, the convention was awesome, and I can’t wait until the next one. The only thing… I really felt my age the next day, not waking until the late evening. Convention Hangover. May have to make sure I pack some energy drinks for next time!

medusa artwork

Smexy Times and Sugar, both bad, but oh so tasty!

So today after work was spent running around trying to get some replacement pieces to my costume for the anime convention I’m heading to tomorrow. *Sigh* Another downside to being extra curvy, couldn’t comfortably fit into the costume I ordered. Luckily, the alternative I found is actually more comfortable than the one I bought, even if it had fit right. I’m going as Medusa from Soul Eater. It looks soooo awesome. The Monster Teen is going to be rocking out in a full Ezio costume from Assassin’s Creed. We are proud geeks and our flag is gonna wave HIGH tomorrow!!! Lets see how much fun my back can take without me falling to pieces in pain. Percocet is my friend, Flexeril is my friend. Rinse and repeat. Anyways, on to what’s been bothering me lately.

I miss smexy times. Not enough to leg hump the nearest male, but my hand gets a work out *waggles eyebrows* if you know what I mean. I just hate the baggage that comes with it. Smexy times without a valid relationship doesn’t work for me. When you literally get sick to the stomach from a 1-nighter in your young and dumb years, you learn never to do it again. And that your conscience is a strong evil monster.

So I can’t have smexy time without a relationship. And a relationship that I feel is actually going somewhere. I made a mistake a couple of months ago of smexin with a friend I thought could be something more. Though I don’t regret it, I do. Yeah, doesn’t make sense, but I have no other way to explain it. Before that, I hadn’t been with someone for a loooong time. We’re talking more than months. And that last relationship wasn’t a good choice either. Never go backwards to a relationship that’s ended, is usually my motto, but there’s one man who I let back into my heart over and over. He trashed it plenty of times (after I first trashed his many years ago), to the point where after he told me he had a new girlfriend while I was deployed and miserable… Well let’s just say my knickers will never talk for my heart with him anymore.

So smexy times… I love them, and can’t have them without someone I really care about. New online guy seems cool, but I can’t yet see myself letting him get anywhere near my giggles n bits. But I have to be careful. I know myself. My giggles n bits have seriously rewired my brain when they feel they’re gathering dust. They’ll convince me that someone is worth letting in to my knickers, when my brain and all those wonderful kittens in my head are screaming No! I guess I’m somewhat like a guy in that moment because the wrong body part is doing the thinking for me. I even have two guys from the job already starring in random fantasies when I have those rare moments of free brain wandering.

Its better to be alone than miserable with someone, right? And I am happy with myself, about 90 percent anyway (the other ten is about my health issues and weight woes). So no smexy times for me in the near future… The giggle n bits brigade can just sit there and become a classic. Won’t they become worth more that way? 😉

And I’ll try to release as much genetic awesome contained in me as I can with geeking out tomorrow. Maybe it’ll take my time off of the missing of a nice set of twig n berries. Oh if only I could combine the two… Kinky role-play anyone? 😉

I’m not sure about this reality… May be rejected in 3…2…1

This is a whiny post…warning, whiny levels set up to 11!

Things are looking slightly sideways to me. I mean that figuratively, although it was quite literal maybe 2 days ago. So I got good but bad news. My CT scan on my chest was normal.

Yay! Except…

My X-rays are normal, my MRI is normal, but my back hurts so bad I was just stuck on the couch when I was trying to get up to go potty. I’m taking a mix of percocet, flerxeril, and motrin 800 (the military’s favorite candy. They really should sponsor military commercials). That mix is just so I can function at about 75 percent. So I don’t try to roll up in a ball to block out life, scream in pain because my back didn’t like the contortion and is now spazzing and doing the macarena in my skin ( I wish it would do a less energetic dance, like a simple two-step, sheesh). This SHITtake mushroom is not just in my head! So what is it? Doc doesn’t know, I don’t know. But I keep shuffling on.

It’s making it very hard to want to anything, and like I mentioned before, I’m adding on pounds like a fatty in a Krispy Kreme. Right now I’m “curvy” but this could EASILY turn into a BBW situation. I don’t want that. The military doesn’t want that either. Especially since they’re on their “cut down the military” kick. I’m in a teaching position right now, but what if fate somehow threw a deployment my way again? I can’t carry my own weight with my back, let alone Kevlar plates.

The only thing it probably IS helping is my teaching nervousness. Seriously, I’m so high in there that I’m surprised I get all of my words out. But I’m kind of in there, floating, and not really caring as much, an my teaching becomes smoother…well, except for dry mouth. Maybe everyone should be high while teaching? Hmmm, maybe not. I know I am the rare breed that can actually function and drive and teach while drugged up.

So… Its back to physical therapy, and making an appointment with the acupuncturist. And maybe chiropractor. I’m not above a voodoo doctor right about now. Dang it, I’ve got an anime convention to attend this weekend, and I’ve got to be able to pose for the camera!