Sunday Morning Circus

Erin's job, as Director of Religious Education at our Parish, requires her to be out of the house Sunday morning. No problem. I got this. A loaded bottle, Sesame Street, a few tylenol, and its go time...I lost.

So what went wrong? Well, it all started with Karis playing the "spoon game". The "spoon game" refers to her throwing yogurt covered spoons accross the kitchen. She knows the stakes are high, but it's worth it. Playing the "spoon game" can mean time-outs or spankings, but Karis believes that's a small price to pay for the delightful look of approval on Grace's face as I mop up yogurt from the floor (and counter, sink, and fridge). Did I mention I do all this one handed since I'm holding Wells with the other? I think the image of me hunched over with back pain makes the game all the more enjoyable for the girls.

So...after a few time outs, I issued Karis a final warning not to do it again. As soon as I turn my back, however, Grace whispered in her ear. Now, if you've ever heard a four year old whisper, you know they're not very good at it. Everybody can hear. It's more like a different voice they use then a true whisper. Grace said, "Karis, throw your spoon again." Karis immediately obeyed. Having heard the whole exchange I told Grace to go to her room immediately. At this point, Grace lost it.

I don't know what was so devastating in her four year old world that caused the outburst (maybe she was outraged I heard her secret), but it was one of the worst ever. I had to put Wells down to deal with her. In a matter of a few seconds he transitioned from a peaceful sleep into a tortured scream. In a panic I went looking for his bottle which seemed to have gotten sucked into a black hole. It was nowhere to be found. It turned up in the shower 48 hours later. I must admit that I do have vague memories of attempting to sedate him with hot steam, but these memories didn't surface until after I rediscovered it. Nonetheless he was screaming his head off for the next hour.

As I attempted to calm Grace down from her fit it occured to me that I have three children now, not two. After doing a quick head count, it was clear that Karis was the missing party. I began searching for her in all the usual places. When I found her she had a mysterious orange jell all over her face. I promptly began investigaing, "Karis, what have you been doing?" I'll never forget her response. "Just drinking medicine." I quickly dialed 9-11. "My daughter just drank half a bottle of children's ibuprofen." Their response was unexpected - "what"? Forgetting that all of my children were screaming in a unified chorus of protest at my failed parenting I repeated myself in normal volume. After being asked for clarificaion again I realized their deafening screams were the problem. Hopefully Grace and Karis will never remember me covering the phone and shouting with a bright red face, "BE QUIET NOW!!! EVERYBODY, PLEASE STOP SCREAMING. STOP PRODUCING SOUND. KARIS HAS POISONED HERSELF AND I NEED TO KNOW WHAT TO DO."

I took off work yesterday to recover. We're all doing much better now. Karis is fine. Love you all.

Jerry W. Tate

On September 24th Erin gave birth to our first son, Jerry Wells Tate. He will go by "Wells". Becoming a dad to a son has led me to spend countless hours over the past two weeks reflecting on my own father, "Jerry Wayne Tate." The two Jerry's already have a great deal in common; same name, similar hair cut, occasional gas problems, dramatic mood swings when hungry, unexpected naps, ect.

I hope my little Jerry will experience all the blessings from me that I experienced from my dad, Big Jerry, growing up. I remember having my manhood tested at the young age of three when my dad would wrestle with me on the floor. I remember the proud look on his face when I made a great catch in backyard footall. I remember laughing hysterically when he read Patrick Mcmanus stories to me before bed. I remember him fixing my fishing pole while I'd use his (and quickly break it as well). I remember the smell of his coffee as we would drive to our favorite fishing hole in the dark. I remember his smiling face on August 14th, 2004, as Erin and I exchanged wedding vows. Consistent, reliable, honorable. These words describe my dad. He taught me what it means to be a man.

My dad left me a hard act to follow, but I think Wells will be extremely blessed if I can be half the dad to him as Big Jerry has been to me. Many theologians recognize a dad's unique role in shapping our conception of God as a Father to us. My earthly father has helped me believe in the reality of the heavenly Father described in Scripture. Jerry Tate made the idea of an all loving, patient, consistent, reliable, and forgiving heavenly Father, believable to me. Thank you dad. I love you. Alaska 2016 (you, me, and Wells). It's on!

The Magical Kingdom

For Grace's 4th birthday Erin and I decided to go all out. We took Grace to Disney World. We didn't tell her that we were going until after her birthday dinner when Erin presented her with a beautiful Cinderella cake. The glow on my sweet girls face when she found out where she was going will make me smile for years to come. To make the gift even more special, she found out that she was going on the trip with her way cool older cousin Taylor Rose, and her super cute little cousin, Billy.

After a not so quick departure I found myself in the back seat of my sister Sara's mini-van. My brother in law, Mike, did a great job making up time on the way there as he managed to tick several minutes off of our GPS predicted arrival time (that's how you know a good driver). I should also mention how strange it was to be sitting in the back seat while Mike drove the van. Picture the contrast; Jeremy - in the back playing Barby's and watching Cinderella. Mike - peacefully sipping on coffee while at the same time communicating to all drivers around him, "cut me off and it will be the end of you." Why did I have to get the brother in law that could easily be cast in Terminator IV? I had no issues with my manhood until Big Mike came around. My wife, Erin, only makes it worse... "Oh... you worked-out with Mike, can you even lift half as much as him?...His biceps are bigger than your legs..."

So anyway, we arrived. Kind of. We still had to take three different trains and park with 10 million other people before actually entering into the Magical Kingdom itself. Now...You might be wondering why they call this Kingdom "Magical"? Well, for starters, when you enter the Magical Kingdom you first have to hand over your entire life savings to a sweaty guy wearing a pink Micky Mouse shirt. This process creates a rush of blood to the head which magnifies the effects of entering the resort. It puts visitors into a sort of trance where they immediately become convinced today will be the best day ever and nothing else matters. My life savings came up short of course, but after bartering with Erin's wedding ring, my shirt, and any prizes Grace might win during her visit, they let us in the gates.

Immediately, Grace's eyes lit up as we pointed out Cinderella's Castle. Free of all material possessions I was able to focus completely on my daughter's delight. She really was captivated, it was pretty cool. I picked her up and together we took it in. Then, in the middle of our little moment a frightfully wicked laugh boomed out of every microphone in the Magical Kingdom. In a second Grace's face changed from awe and wonder to terror and fear. Then, at the height of her fear, a witch, Maleficent, yes, that is literally her name (she's the crazy looking demon woman up above), jumped up onto the steps of Cinderella's Castle. The exact place Grace had pictured herself playing, Cinderella's steps, the place Cinderella lost her glass slipper, had become her nightmare. The rest of the day she wanted to know her exact proximity from "The Castle" (she would no longer call it "Cinderella's" Castle for it had been taken over by a Witch)

As the day progressed, we went on a total of three rides. As Mike pointed out to me, this broke down to $80.00 per ride. We rode race cars, flew on Dumbo, and flew on Aladdin.

As I think about the day though, we actually had a great time, despite the disappointments.

Instead of having fun on rides, we had fun just being together. Sara and I found it hysterical to see parents so obsessed with getting their money's worth that they were literally dragging sleeping children into lines two hours long. I was amazed to see my 8 year old niece, Taylor-Rose, spend her entire day waiting in line for little kid rides without complaining once. I was amazed to hear my wife explain to my daughter the fun of make believe. She explained to Grace that Maleficent was a normal person who just puts on a costume for work. I didn't buy into her explanation myself of course (normal people generally do not commit their life's work to frightening children), but I was glad her words were able to comfort Grace.

In the end though, I think I also realized that the fear is good. When I was a kid I had a similar experience to Grace involving the Big Bad Wolf. I'll never forget it. Although I was terrified at the time, I think it made my own experience (to Disney Land) that much more real. After all, who would Peter Pan be without Captain Hook? Who would Cinderella be without her evil stepmother? In order for kids to really love their hero, they have to be afraid of their nemesis.

I think it's the same way with us as adults in our faith. I've written this whole blog entry preoccupied with tomorrow being good Friday and wondering if we'll be able to find a place to stop on our drive back to Maryland to celebrate Christ's death. I realize though that Good Friday has no meaning if we're not afraid of dying, sin, the forces of evil, or judgement. Originally, I was sad that Grace was so afraid by what she saw. But honestly, she left Disney World loving loving Cinderella and Snow White more than ever. I think she understands now, at a deeper level, the goodness because she had to see the darkness. May it be the same for us on Good Friday as well.

Love you guys!