Family

Sometimes, I can be mean. I don’t always like it. Some people mistake my honesty for something mean-spirited. That bothers me.

Others times, however, it can be fun. I had one of those opportunities recently when my mother-in-law visited.

I love my mother-in-law, but I know how to push her buttons. I had a perfect opportunity when the topic of my trip to Hersheypark with Bridget came up.

We decided to head to Hershey almost on the spur of the moment. Maria had plans to sell some of her hand-stamped cards at an event in western Maryland, and I needed something to keep me from having to take Bridget to western Maryland.

Hello, Hersheypark.

Today marks a very sad day in my life. I no longer have a birthday. Officially, I turn 37 today, but none of that really matters any more. My daughter turns 5 later this week and will have her birthday party today.

Instead of basking in the limelight, I will carry around goodie bags, pass out pizza and make sure no one gets lost in the ball pit.

Happy birthday to me.

My Mom taught me how to ride a bike in the Hutzler’s parking lot at Westview Mall in Catonsville, Md., on a Sunday afternoon. We had the whole place to ourselves because of the old blue laws. We missed the first half of a Baltimore Colts game while we were out there. I think they played the Buffalo Bills or New England Patriots that day.

We started a very important stretch of the summer this past week. I really need to stay focused or everything could come crashing down around me. It’s carnival season.

Up until a few years ago, I had never visited any of our local carnivals. Then we had a kid, and I needed to entertain her somehow.

I’m totally hooked. You know those TV shows with parents obsessed with making their kids into sports stars or actors? Well, I’m gonna be a carnival Dad.

I need Bridget to love carnivals and amusement parks. Need.

I have taken some chances in my lifetime. I have driven too fast. I once mouthed off to a 305-pound All-American defensive lineman. I even bungee jumped. But nothing compared to the situation I put myself in a couple of weeks ago.

I volunteered at my daughter’s preschool. For two and a half hours, I found myself at the mercy of 14 4- and 5-year-olds.

Bridget could not wait. She had waited all year for me to find a time that fit into my schedule. I actually could have done it earlier in the year, but just didn’t take the time.

Maria had actually volunteered several times already this year. After each time, she said the same thing.

“I can’t wait until you have your turn.”

I have a pretty good life. I really can’t complain about much, but I will anyway. We have a nice house. We don’t have to scrimp and save for food or other basic needs. We get to take nice, but not extravagant, vacations. But things could be so much better.

I blame my wife. Well, not her personally, but her generosity and kind heart. They’re bringing me down.