Tyler - 25 years old
Tyler - 16 years oldI don't know why exactly I'm being prompted to blog about Tyler. In recent years - 10 to be exact - there hasn't been a whole lot of positive things going on in Tyler's life, so consequently that means there's not a lot I - as his mother - want to share with the world. You see, Tyler is my second child, my first son. He was born 11 days late on December 3, 1983. He was such a cute, fat, red baby. He came into the world rather quietly - not crying at all at first, which worried the doctors a little. He had a shock of dark black hair that the nurses loved to put into different hair styles each time they would bring him back to me from the nursery. One time it was a little mohawk, another it was parted straight down the middle like a barber shop quartet singer and once it was parted on the middle and combed over. Yep, he was funny from the getgo. He does have a funny sense of humor and can be very funny. He also has a tender little heart and is quite sensitive. After Jeni, his older sister, figured out that he wasn't going back where he came from, she would always take such good care of him. If he cried, she always tried to make it better - either with her smiles or a bottle or a favorite toy. He required a lot of attention - more than the average bear I think. He would climb on top of tables or get into the top kitchen cabinets all in hopes of getting a rise out of me. I learned early on that the less fuss I made, the better. The more fuss, the more he did things to get a reaction. It was a hard thing for me to learn since I am basically a reactor. As time wore on, the attention thing got bigger and bigger. I don't know if maybe I had of just reacted to things when he was little then he wouldn't have felt the need to keep doing more and more. Maybe he was just wired that way and nothing I could have done differently would have made a difference. As he entered adolescence and then pre-teens he liked his music loud and angry and definately didn't want anyone telling him what to do. (I know, typical teenager) He - like his mother - is a reactor and didn't really stop to ever think about anything he did. He just jumped in with both feet and paid the price later. He ran away from home in a fit of anger at 16 years and 2 months. He's been running ever since. He's come back home twice now in hopes of fixing things that were wrong in his life. I keep hoping - like all mothers do - that he and/or we will find that "magic thing" that makes his life better, that makes him happier. I love this boy/man so much and I want to fix things for him so badly. Partly because it might help him, but partly because it would be good for me to not have to worry about him every minute.
Anyway, he's out in the world trying to figure things out and having a hard time making good, clear choices. I pray for him every single day and hope that one day something will click for him. Because as a mother, my heart breaks to think that he's not living up to his potential.
I love you, Tyler.
