He's Turning 18, I Can Cry If I Want To

So, my baby turns 18 tomorrow. And I am a mess. And Jose thinks I am crazy. Well, I do not really care who thinks I am crazy at this point. My baby. My first born child is turning 18 years old. I no longer have any legal say over his life. Any chance that I had to impress upon him, I had better done it. Sure, I still can. But those impressive years are gone now. It is time to let the bird fly free from the nest. I can remember when he was born. He was born mad. Pist off at the world. He came out bruised from forceps, but looking like he fought his way into this life. And he screamed, with every breath he took....."YOU LIED......YOU LIED....."But God, he was so perfect. We were so young. Jon and I, we had everything to learn ourselves about how to be parents, but one thing we knew, he was ours, we were blessed and he would be a hand full.
And that he was. I named him Tyler Storm and rightfully so, because he was and always has been a storm. He storms in your life, he storms out. He leaves behind a storm in his wake and he can cause a storm in the flash of a light.
He was challenging. But I loved my challenges with him. He grew so fast. Fast and furious.
He was spoiled by everyone. You take the first grandchild, nephew, child on every side and you have one spoiled brat by the age of one.
Add Diane and Pete Cresong daily to that mix and it gets worse. I say that with all the love and respect in the world to them both, its a well known fact that Tyler was just a smidgen more spoiled and Marsha just had to accept it, shake off her ruffled feathers and go on about her way.
Life seems to have this way about it. It keeps going, even when you want it to stop for awhile. When you want it to stop and let you watch it in slow motion for a bit. No, it keeps going. And that is just what happened here. Life kept going and going, the years kept turning and turning.
Tyler kept having birthdays and birthdays and more birthdays.
That little boy who at one with curls and would say, "cook, cook", turned into a young man who liked riding on the back of the ambulance with his father, taking care of patients. That little tyke who couldnt sit still during church turned into a young man who loves the word of God and loved sharing it with people, loves ministering it and sharing God's word with anyone who will listen.
That little boy that mommy used to have to look down at, she now has to look up into his eyes.
He is no longer a little boy.
He is 18, no longer a boy. He will graduate High School in 2 weeks and yes this is a time of celebration and joy and gladness, it is also a time of sadness for me.
If there can be sadness without it being a bad sadness, then that is what this sadness is for me.
It is a milestone in your life, that you have reached, and I am so very proud of you.
I celebrate with you. I claim this victory with you, I am so very happy for you.
My little boy is now a man and for that I can feel a pang of sadness.
For the day that I remember forcing you on the Kindergarten bus, I can feel a tinge of
sadness.
But for knowing that you are on your way to bigger and greater things, I am happy and proud my son.
I know you will do your best, and as always, that is all I ask.
But, I will end my blog as I began, he is turning 18 and I can cry if I want to.