Kateri has never been and never will be the kind of little girl I once was. Here’s our latest example: Little girls are supposed to love dollhouses, right? They are supposed to spend hour upon hour arranging the furniture and posing the mommy at the breakfast table and the baby in his highchair, right? I know I did.

But what does my 11 year old do when she gets her hands on a dollhouse? She helps her hermit crabs move in, of course.

Meet Hermitta, who likes to lounge by the windows and scurry across the bedroom floors. And Henry, who is so confident in his masculinity he wears a pink shell and prefers to sleep late… in his bed, naturally.

Glorious Saint Joseph, you are the patron of all who work. Obtain for me, please, the grace to work conscientiously and to put devotion to duty before my selfish inclinations. Help me to labor in thankfulness and joy, for it is an honor to employ and to develop by my labor the gifts I have received from almighty God. Grant that I may work in orderliness, peace, moderation and patience without shrinking from weariness and difficulties. I offer my fatigue and perplexities as reparation for sin. I shall work, above all, with a pure intention and with detachment from self, having always before my eyes the hour of death and the accounting which I must then render of time ill-spent, of talents unemployed, of good undone, and of empty pride in success, which is so fatal to the work of God. For Jesus through Mary, all in imitation of you, good Saint Joseph. This shall be my motto in life and in death. Amen.

I’m a little late getting to this, as last week was TV Turnoff Week, but better late than never:

A Reader’s Question
What is your family’s perspective on television? Do you let your kids watch it? Is it hard to set rules?

My Response
When it comes to television, our family has pretty much done it all and tried it all through the years. For the first year of our marriage, Dan and I had a large television with a cable connection and we watched TV every night. Then, when we moved to a house farther from the city, we decided we could not afford to pay for cable. Without cable in our new location, we received no channels and so that decided it for us. We packed our television into the closet and made great use of the local library. I have such happy memories of our family during that time—we had just two small children and we always had plenty to keep us occupied. Although I know Dan suffered from a lack of sports exposure, I don’t recall missing television at all during that time.

Then one day, our landlord came by to do some work on the house and asked where our TV was. When we told him we didn’t use a television, he almost fell to the floor. He felt so terribly bad for us, I remember him saying. And he had no idea that we were living like that. He was such a very nice and sympathetic guy that, despite our protests that we were perfectly content without television, he rummaged through the basement until he found a gigantic antenna. He then spent the rest of the afternoon installing it on the roof and hooking it up to the television he insisted we pull out of the closet. By the time he left, we received several local channels. As I recall, Dan immediately turned on a football game and settled on the couch. In the following couple of years, he got his weekly dose of sports and I got addicted to ER. Not so bad.

Then, when at last we moved here to our own house, we felt confident enough to pack up the television set and return it to a closet. We had a few more kids and they were getting older, though. On few different occasions (in the midst of stomach viruses and long weeks of blizzards) I did think, “Gee, a Winnie the Pooh video would sure come in handy.” Eventually, I stopped just thinking that and started saying it out loud. To my husband. And he listened. We got a VCR and started a library of our own family friendly videos. We had gotten it for the kids, but as it turned out Dan and I really started to enjoy renting movies together and having “grown up” down time the evening several times a week. That was not so bad, either.

Eventually, however, my poor deprived husband complained. He truly was sports deprived, he told me. He wanted to watch football games with his sons, just as he used to watch with his father. Keeping up with professional sports was an innocent pleasure he had long been denied. I took pity on him and okayed getting a satellite connection.

That was five years ago and we still have the satellite. We get local channels and some specialized channels and tons of channels we would never watch. We allow the kids restricted, supervised access to PBS, some cartoon channels, and some DVDs. We don’t have a set time limit in hours per week or anything like that because I don’t feel like we need to. The kids don’t watch every day. In fact, during the warmer weather when they can be outdoors, weeks can go by without anyone even asking for television.

Dan watches sporting events. And sports news. And sports talk shows. And sports game shows (Stump the Schwab anyone?). Are you picking up on the theme here? I am not so into sports but we do watch some shows together, like 24, Lost, and MythBusters.

The bottom line is, I see TV not as something intrinsically evil, but as a tool. One that can be used for good, but also one that can rather easily be abused. I surely don’t rely on TV or movies for educational purposes, but they can be a great source of family entertainment. And entertainment has its place.

I think, like so many things, there is no right or wrong answer when it comes to television and its use by families. I know of no-TV families, DVD-only families, all-kinds-of-TV families, and everything in between. They all have their reasons for using (or not using) television as they do and they all have made careful decisions based on what they deem best for their families.

Do I ever feel like we are watching too much? Yes. But that’s what the off button is for. Do I ever feel offended by something we inadvertently hear or witness on the television? Absolutely. But since we turn off or at least mute most commercials, it doesn’t happen very often. Do I sometimes worry that perhaps we are not handling TV exactly the way we should? Sure. But we parents are always second-guessing important decisions we make for our families, and then re-adjusting them as necessary. That’s our job. With God’s help and guidance, may we all do it well.

(By the way, for family friendly television and movie reviews and recommendations, check out Common Sense Media.)

And he said to them, “Why are you troubled, and why do questionings rise in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself; handle me, and see; for a spirit has not flesh and bones as you see that I have.” And while they still disbelieved for joy, and wondered, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate before them.
Luke 23:38-43

Lord, help us to see that You are with us and believe in You always.

Pope Benedict XVI laments falling birth rates:

“The lack of such creative and forward-looking love is the reason why many couples today choose not to marry, why so many marriages fail, and why birth rates have significantly diminished…. Instead of feeling loved and cherished, children and young people often appear to be merely tolerated.”

A new feminist author causes an uproar by saying something simple:

“If you love your work and you love your child and you decide to give your child less of you to go to work, you missed something big and important and so did your child.”

And Fr. Euteneuer of HLI tells about an ironic source of funding for Planned Parenthood:

“The perfect case of cultural schizophrenia is mega-conglomerate Johnson and Johnson, the baby company. The maker of baby shampoo and other childcare products has been funding Planned Parenthood’s murderous regime for as long as anyone can remember.”

Genevieve Kineke invites your comments in an enlightening discussion about modesty she is engaged in with Muslim women.

Raphael is walking. Like a stiffened, slippered old man, he takes small, uncertain steps in all directions. From the couch to the rocking chair. From the kitchen cabinets to the table. From his mother’s arms to… well, anywhere he wants to go.

I remember when my oldest son was on the brink of learning to walk, I had a dream that he did indeed walk. He walked very well. Only he walked away from me. “That’s funny,” I told everyone in my dream, “I always thought that when he first took steps, they would be toward me.”

I suppose that my psyche is not all that complicated a creature and the meaning of my dream was a transparent one. Baby is taking steps. Toward growing up. Toward independence. Away from me.

I am an older and more experienced mother now, so I’m sure I won’t go getting all blubbery about Raphael’s new-found independence. That would be silly. Babies are built for gaining new skills. I know that. It’s their job to make us obsolete.

But after I dressed Raphael this morning, he wrenched his way from my arms, righted himself on the floor, and wobbled away. Only when his feet met a stuffed bear lying on the floor, did he hesitate. Shakily, he stooped downward to pick up the bear. On his way back up he bobbled a bit and I thought for sure his bottom would hit the floor. But it didn’t. Cautiously, carefully, he righted himself again. Then, with bear in hand, he continued his steady progress forward—drooling, babbling, bobbling—past the rocking chair and toward the stairs.

And he never looked back.

Holy Spirit, Source of every perfection, give us wisdom, intelligence, and courage so that, following the example of Saint Gianna and through her intercession, we may know how to place ourselves at the service of each person we meet in our personal, family and professional lives, and thus grow in love and holiness. Amen.

Visit the Saint Gianna Beretta Molla website. To learn more about this saint and her fascinating story, I would recommend reading Love Letters To My Husband, a collection of letters written by Gianna to her husband Pietro during their courtship and marriage. Very enlightening!

In recent days we have been digging into storage bins and pulling out some of the kids’ summer clothing items. Now Kateri’s swimsuit from last year happens to have a matching sarong, which yesterday she and younger sister Juliette were discussing at great length—its style and its practicality for covering up at the lake. After hearing the word “sarong” several times over a period of a few minutes, 9 year old Eamon could stand it no longer.

“It’s just a piece of cloth,” he interrupted. “Why do girls need to have such fancy names for all their different kinds of clothes? Boys just wear pants and shirts.”

His sisters looked at him blankly. What on earth could he be talking about?

I would have helped him out, but I have no idea what his problem was either. I just know that when I go out later this afternoon, I plan to wear a linen camp shirt with my cropped sojourners and t-strap espadrilles.

was really yummy. Not low-cal, to be sure, but yummy. We doubled it of course, and (are you sitting down for this?) everyone ate it. I might have cheated a bit by cooking some of the marinated chicken without the filling for some of our more… discriminating eaters, but that doesn’t count, does it? Anyway, I’m saving this recipe for this summer when we have loads of our own fresh basil. And Kateri might just manage to grow a tomato or two.