I do believe I have cried three times today, and the chances are high it will happen three more times today. My first-born son Carlton turns 18 years old today, which for means old age for me and legality for him. Both are equally scary.

In a little over a week, he will finding his way as a man at Marine bootcamp in South Carolina. He impressed me by getting great grades in high school, and he humored me by filling out college applications and getting into Old Dominion University. But I think he wanted to go to the military all along, and at some point I got tired of fighting him, and I helped him the best way I could. I have family in the military so I know the various fates that meet folks who join the military, and I'm just praying that he'll not only land on his feet, but he'll thrive.

But today, there's a montage of his last 18 years playing in my head. I remember bringing him home from the hospital, I remember the $100 speeding ticket I received driving from D.C. to Hampton when his mother was in labor, I remember feeling scared, clueless, slight regret, awe and lots of love when I saw him. I also remember his bad behavior, smart ass mouth and the ups and downs I went through with his mother. But I suppose every parent with an 18+ year old child can tell similar stories. I'm just happy my story has been positive thus far...and I want it to stay that way which is why I keep getting on his ass about condoms and InstaGram abuse...but at this point he has to learn his own lessons right?

One day I'll show him this blog, so he read just how crazy his dad is. But I digress, I can't even get emotions in check enough to write a smooth, coherent entry....happy birthday son.