My son Brian is sixteen. He is a joy in my life, and my last child to come around the pike. He is the last of three. My pregnancy was normal, and when this perfectly shaped baby made his way into this world, he was complacent, and happy and handsome. He seemed as if he was mature for his age, within the fist couple of hours. When he came home, he found he had an older brother and an older sister, and a nice, big, roomy house with nice plush carpet to lay on and play on. My older son was three, and my daughter was five. They doted on their little brother. They were there to pick up his toys when they fell, or to put his bottle back in his mouth, or his pacifier. They would help get a diaper and his ointment for him. He would watch from his infant seat and see how their arms and legs moved, and I’m sure he wanted to join in the activities. Unfortunately, his little mind wasn’t old enough to crawl, walk, run, eat, talk, or go to the bathroom, the designated bathroom, I should say. My daughter was old enough to make sure he didn’t fall off the couch, if I had to run to the bathroom. With the first two, I was taking their infant seats in with me.
My Brian rarely cried, and was quite content in his walker, or swing, or playpen, playing with all the cool toys I would get him. And my daughter and son were doing their things while he caught glimpses, between his own masterful moves on his abacus! When he got old enough to be interested in movies, we would all get together in the family room, all marking our favorite spots, and watch Disney movies, and mommy could rest for a little while. He learned so much by having two older siblings, some good, some bad. Some of the good were to tie his shoes earlier, and zip his jackets, and button his buttons, snap his onesies’ snaps, put his pajamas on, his clothes, his sneakers. It was a totally different experience with my other kids. One was the older, and a girl, and my only one for 22 months, and my second was a boy and like a firstborn all over again.
Brian was much more independent. He’d sit in his little chair, eating his cheerios, laughing and cooing, and waiting patiently until he could do the things his siblings were doing. Of course, as with all babies, it didn’t take long until he was growing as rapidly as my other two. First their was two years of nursery school, then grammar school, which he hated. He doesn’t like school. Well, I should say the truth, "he hates school!" he played a few years of basketball and baseball, but sports weren’t really his thing. I didn’t know what his "thing" was, but I knew it wasn’t sports. He merely went through the motions of waking up to his alarm, sliding some jeans on, throwing a t shirt over his head, brushing his teeth, and walking down to the bus stop, the worst thing he could imagine doing. He wasn’t old enough to know what it was like for the neighbor to be getting into his car, driving an hour and a half to get to a boiler job, where he would sweat all day, punch out at five, drive in traffic two hours home, and jut barely make ends meet. He didn’t want to read, memorize, add, subtract, multiply, know where Uranus was, or why the Battle of Chief Somebody, was fought.
He did, however, want to draw these amazing, intricate mazes that would blow Einstein’s mind. It would take him hours, and it was amazing that all these mazes led somewhere. He quickly gravitated to video games, as I guess that part of his brain was strong. I have heard tidbits of my older two torturing my youngest, such as when they shot him at close range with a paintball gun. I really don't want to know anymore, and I hope that now that they are older, they can make amends, and move on with no animosity.
My son does what every other sixteen year old is doing, I think. Playing computer and video games, watching movies, e mailing, text messaging, watching a few of his favorite shows, and generally hanging out. I would like to get my son outside more this summer. I want him to admire nature, and get the positive energy it was intended to give. I have a feeling he will. We have a dock and a lake, and woods for camping or picnicking. I’d like him to have his friends over. I want him to have fun, and enjoy life.
I want my son to know he is safe, and we’re not going anywhere. I want him to understand the theory that when you do good, good things happen, and when you do bad, bad things happen, and that’s not to be confused with the good and bad that still creep in. I’m talking on the average.
I am a strong person, and when it comes to my kids, I am an extremely strong woman! I will never let anything happen to my son that will do him harm. There are always solutions not to let that happen, and I’m smart enough to figure them out. My son has a nice room, a nice home, a brother, a sister, a mother and her boyfriend who love him very much, and will never let any harm come to him.
My boyfriend has been helping me raise my son since he was eight. I know there will be many more things for my son to learn from my boyfriend, from cars, to driving, to how engines work, to rockets going off, to splitting wood, to building something, to learning how to use the gas engine on the boat, to going for rides on the lake, to going fishing, to having friends over, and campouts. These are things goals are made of. Maybe, he’ll have a girlfriend, and he can take her down to the lake, and for a boat ride, he already went once with a friend. They can sit on the dock, talk, have a picnic, enjoy the sun and the warmth and the water. All relaxing, peaceful, serene things to do. How about a nice sunset?
I love my son to the point of doing whatever I can to make sure his life is happy and exciting and hopeful. I carried him inside of me, I delivered him, I nurtured him, loved him, nursed him back to health when he got sick, made sure he had the toys and Nintendo systems and games he wanted. I made sure he took his medicine, even when he didn’t want to. I made sure he ate balanced meals. I have done everything I can think to be a good mother to her son.
I hug him, I kiss him, I tell him I love him, although not nearly as much as I should. I’ll make more of an effort. I just want my son to know without a shadow of a doubt, that with or without anyone else’s help, I am strong enough, smart enough, in the right enough, and stubborn enough, to take care of what needs to be doneand that we’re all going to be okay. I’ve taken care of it all, with the help of my partner, up until now.
And I still, if I had to, and I didn’t have a partner, could take care of all the paperwork and questionnaires, and court visits, and mediations I’ve been to.
My son hasn’t fallen far from the tree. He is my apple, from my stock. He is going to be a strong, sensitive, understanding, compassionate, honest, loyal, responsible young man, as he is now. He is intelligent, and can think of intelligent things. He likes order in his life, one of the hardest things for him to have to accept going through a divorce, with no order. This, too, shall pass, and I will continue to try and allow my son his right, to feel loved, safe, and secure.
I love you,
Mom
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