My youngest niece turned five a couple of weeks ago. My nephew will be 10 in September. My middle niece is eight. I can't believe how old they're getting, or how old I'm getting. I still remember the day my nephew was born, and how I rushed to the hospital from Enron Field after I worked an Astros game to see him for the first time. And I remember driving up to Austin the weekend the youngest was born to take my nephew and middle niece to a Round Rock baseball game so that my brother and sister-in-law could get some rest and so that the kids wouldn't feel neglected.
And through this birthday process, I'm in the middle of packing up to move again. But this is the first time in my life that I'm not moving up in the world -- every other move I've made in my life has been to better conditions, but seeing as how I've turned into such a failure over the past year or so, I'm having to move to down, to a cheaper place that should fit within my reduced budget as I struggle to keep trying to make a paycheck.
But at least my nieces and nephew seem to like me. I've got that going for me, and that's a good thing. Right? I hope so, at least.
Now, if I could just find some way to get them to like The Beatles half as much as they currently worship Justin Bieber. If I can't pull that off, then I really am a failure.