Category: Questions that keep me up at night

Is it ok to dress frumpily?: on whether fashion sense is a moral issue

February 15th, 2026

This post will be related to my previous posts “is it okay to be ugly” and “is it okay for women to wear pants”; but, we’re getting a bit more specific here. Really narrowing the focus. Now, the Question That Keeps Me Up At Night is: is it okay for me, as a woman, to dress “frumpily”?

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The Post That Inspired This Post:

You all already know I’m a big fan of the work of the contemporary Traditionalist Catholic writer Dr. Peter Kwasniewski. He’s a hero; he’s the coolest. I follow him on social media and read his website regularly, and pretty much every sentence he writes makes me want to stand up and throw my hat in the air and applaud, because he’s so brilliant and so eloquent and makes his points so beautifully. Never before had something he posted made me pause, frown, raise an eyebrow, and go “hmmm, now wait just a moment there, Dr. K” – never, until yesterday.

The post in question is promoting a new book – not his, but someone else’s: a book written by a female author about how clothing/fashion has changed in recent decades, how it’s gotten uglier and poorer in quality and design, how we can return to dressing nicely, and why this should matter to us, especially as Catholics. Specifically talking about women’s fashion.

One of the main points of the book/post seems to be that, these days, women who dress modestly tend to sacrifice beauty — dressing like pioneers or in unflattering trash bag-like outfits. Frumpily. And it’s saying that, actually, women should try to dress both beautifully and modestly.

Almost everyone in the comments seemed to agree with the message. One commenter even said something like: “yes! Women should look like beautiful flowers and men should look like tall trees.”

Meanwhile, here’s me in my shapeless maxi skirt and loose, soft tee and long baggy cardigan, reading this and going: “Excuse me? Now you’re saying I have a moral obligation to try and look like a beautiful flower?? WHAT??”

Now, you don’t have to rehash the argument to me. I get it. It’s very true that fashion used to be beautiful and classy and now it’s not. I’m aware of that.

Recently, my husband and I watched “11/22/63” on Netflix, and one of my favorite parts of that show was seeing the beauty of everyday life in the early ‘60s: the clothes, the interior design, the cars, everything; beauty was important, back then. It’s not like that anymore. (There’s actually an IG account I really like that explores this cultural shift from a Catholic POV — you should check it out.) Historically, up until like the late ‘60s, women did dress like beautiful flowers and men like tall trees. It is sad that we as a society have stopped doing that. I agree. As a mom, I especially wish kids’ clothes still looked the way it did in the ‘50s. I’d love it if cute little lacy dresses and crisp little outfits with buttons were as easy to find as the cheap stretchy synthetic technicolor stuff kids wear these days.

However, I take issue with this post. I take issue with being told that I should dress prettier, that I have a moral obligation to wear fitted, frilly, fussy, fancy, “flowery” things.

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Is my objection a logical one, though? Do I have a legitimate argument, or am I just reacting emotionally because I’m offended and don’t like being told what to do? I’m not sure. Let’s unpack it!

Mith’s Backstory:

Quite possibly, it’s just an emotionally touchy topic for me. Clothes and I have a complicated relationship. I hate the way my body looks. Dressing the meat tank is a chore, neither fun nor satisfying. I especially hate anything form-fitting, and anything snug around my waist. I feel my best, the most comfy and confident, and the most “me,” when I’m wearing some baggy old jeans and an oversized hoodie that’s long enough to cover the butt, and combat boots. That’s my favorite look; that’s Mith in her truest form.

However, being Catholic, I knew I had to stop dressing like that. I knew I had to make an effort to look somewhat more feminine – to look like I cared a little bit. So I threw out all my jeans, and now only wear skirts or dresses. The skirts must be long enough to cover my ankles. Not because of modesty – I’m well aware that a skirt can be modest and still show some lower leg – but because I hate my ankles most of all.

Combine this with my inability to tolerate snug-fitting tops, and the result is: loose and baggy all over. My favorite article of clothing is a hippie-ish shapeless, flowy tiered maxi dress that I own in five or six different colors and patterns. It makes me feel like I’m “wearing a dress” and thus doing my duty to be feminine and traddy, while also essentially wearing a trash bag.

Do I feel great in this look? No, but at least it’s comfortable and easy to wear and serves its purpose of concealing the meat tank in a modest, age-appropriate way.

Suits me fine. I don’t want to show off my shape. I don’t want the meat tank to be perceived.

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Islamic Fashion Mini-Rant:

To be honest, I kind of dig Islamic women’s fashion. I kind of wish Catholic modesty standards were more like theirs – that Western Christian lay women dressed in loose-fitting, floor-length garb and covered their hair. That, to me, seems more truly modest.

Before you come at me, I know full well that modesty is not about pandering to weak men. Modesty standards do not exist to make women bend over backwards to accommodate men who don’t know how to practice self-control. That’s not what a proper Catholic understanding of modesty is about. It’s about dressing ourselves with dignity, honoring the beauty of our God-given bodies without cheapening it.

But don’t the abaya and hijab serve that same purpose? They’re not trash bags; some of them are really pretty and feminine.

Not to mention more comfortable, and more accommodating for those of us who have sensory or other issues with fussy, snug-fitting clothes.

I honestly wish Catholics subscribed to this view of modesty. I’d seriously wear a niqab if it were socially acceptable for a white Christian woman in America. I think it’s a really cool idea, and sounds so freeing to wear.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not converting to Islam. And you don’t have to explain it to me, I understand the philosophy behind Catholic modesty standards: the human body is good, God created it good, and rather than just conceal it under a ton of fabric, we ought to celebrate it and honor it. Dressing in aesthetically-pleasing, form-flattering clothes is a gesture of respect for ourselves, our work, and our neighbors. I know. I hear you.

But like I said, Islamic women’s attire doesn’t communicate a negative message about femininity. On the contrary, dressing that way seems to say that the female body is so good and so sacred that, like the tabernacle, it should be concealed, only seen by those who have a God-given right to it. How is that not beautiful?

Modesty means different things in different cultures, and I guess both understandings are valid. Whether you choose to showcase the body with flattering clothes that cover it well, or conceal it beneath forgiving drapes of loose fabric — both can be considered modest. But, selfishly, I kinda wish Western culture erred more on the side of concealing.

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Mith Has a Temper Tantrum

I don’t want to be the arrogant little twat that I was back in 2012; I’m not going to come onto WordPress and post my weak arguments and lame excuses for being a bad Catholic. Maybe I should just tap out of this one. Maybe Dr. K is right. Maybe I really don’t have an excuse for dressing in trash bags. As a wife and mom, maybe I ought to dress in a way that shows respect and celebrates the body that God gave me, for which I ought to be grateful.

… All of which makes me just want to throw in the towel and say “fuck it” and just go back to my jeans and hoodies.

Because I gave them up to be a good little tradcath, even though I didn’t want to – but now, now you tell me that’s still not good enough?, that I have to switch to tight little prissy button-up numbers that will constrict me physically and mentally?

I’m honestly so tired of trying to larp as someone I’m not.

Yes, Catholicism is the truth. I believe and profess everything that the Holy Catholic Church teaches. But nowhere does she dictate a certain aesthetic or lifestyle. Nowhere does she say that, if you’re a woman, you must be a girly-girl fashion plate.

I’m not the archetypical sweet little feminine tradcath stay-at-home mom with her apron and sourdough starter. I never will be. That just ain’t me, and I’m so tired of forcing myself into what basically amounts to a poorly-executed cosplay.

“If you respected yourself, you’d dress like it” – well, you know what? I don’t! I don’t respect my body! It sucks! I accept it, but I don’t like it, and I don’t want to show it off. I don’t want to look like a beautiful flower, because I don’t want to be seen as something to “pick” or “pollinate.” Tbh I don’t want to be seen at all.

Shit like this, this whole “should, should, should”, lifestyle extremist traddy attitude (traditude?), makes me want to give up and cut my hair short again. Honestly, I love the way it feels to have super short hair — but have been gritting my teeth and forcing myself to keep some length because “fEmiNiNiTy” and “bEaUtY stAnDaRds.” But, if even my efforts thus far aren’t good enough, and I’m not allowed to dress like a Muslim (because that would be highly unusual for a Christian in our society, and call undue attention to myself, so it could be seen as immodest or even prideful), then literally, F it. I’m done.

I’m tempted to go full Revenge Ugly again.

But, I must admit: Revenge Ugly is not a healthy attitude to have. The part of me that wants to be Revenge Ugly doesn’t come from God, I’m pretty sure.

Because if I really respected my body and liked it and were comfortable in my God-given skin — if I were free from disorder, basically — then yes, of course I’d dress like a beautiful flower! Wouldn’t we all?

Or would we?

Self-hatred analogy

I read something once on a Catholic social media page that compared a woman who dresses “badly” – chopping her hair short, dying it blue, wearing ripped jeans and tattoos and piercings and all – to the way Catholic architecture changed after Vatican II. Catholic churches lost their grandeur and beauty and meaning, and became uninspiring and drab.

The OP claimed that both of these – the modern woman and the modern Church – are acting from a place of self-hatred. Modern Catholicism hates Catholic Tradition, which is the actual essence of real Catholicism, and that’s why modern churches look like the way they do. Similarly, the woman who chops her hair and wears ripped jeans and gets tattoos, is a woman who hates herself, hates what she is at her core, even if she doesn’t realize it (according to OP). She hates her body and her God-given femininity. She lacks a healthy self-respect and respect for the One Who made her, and that’s what her style communicates.

I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know it’s true for me. I dress like trash, and I do struggle with self-hatred. So I’m afraid I can’t prove OP wrong.

“But Mith, maybe if you tried dressing better you’d stop hating yourself! Sometimes you have to fake it till you make it! You have to pretend to be asleep before you can fall asleep, ya know?, and that’s how life works.” — Bold of you to assume I haven’t already tried this zillions of times in my thirty-six years! Bold of you to assume that I don’t always naturally, gradually revert back to baggy hoodies, having wasted a bunch of money on clothes that I never wear! And even bolder of you to assume that my self-hatred is so ephemeral as to be cured with something like a change of clothes!

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Now I finally get to the argument

“Women should look like beautiful flowers and men like tall trees” – really? I dunno about that.

“Can”, sure. But, “should”? Not so fast.

I’m still not convinced that we as women have to look like that. Yes, it’s nice when a woman dresses beautifully. And a beautiful, well-composed outfit does communicate something about God’s design for woman and her purpose. Which is beautiful, maybe even the most beautiful thing in the world.

God designed woman to nurture, to care for, to welcome, to receive, to host, to self-sacrifice, to be soft and gentle and lovely like a flower. And God designed man to provide, to be strong, to protect, to shelter, like a tall tree.

But, does that really mean that all men and all women have to dress like flowers and trees, respectively?

Because it’s also cool, isn’t it, when women are buff tomboys. And when men are pretty and good at makeup. It may be unconventional, but, there’s nothing sinful about that. Some people have real gifts that don’t align with traditional gender roles.

People are all so different. People have different personalities, different strengths and weaknesses, and it’d be dumb to pretend we don’t – to try to force every woman to be ultra-feminine and every man to be hyper-masculine.

For whatever reason, some women are not very feminine, and some men are not very masculine. So what? Are those men and women failing morally? Are their style choices proof that they hate themselves?

That may be true of Mith, but I don’t think it’s necessarily true of everyone.

As I said in my other post: buff tomboy women and effeminate pretty men may not look the part of the “ideal candidates for marriage” in the traditional sense – but that doesn’t make them less valuable as humans. A human’s value is not dependent upon their marriageability.

And, as I said in my other post: yes, of course we as women should all strive to imitate the Blessed Mother. But, it seems to me that imitating her virtues — humility, obedience, charity, patience, mercy, generosity — ought to be more important than dressing like a girly-girl. A buff tomboy could obviously still excel in all of those virtues.

Do I wish nicer clothes were widely available and affordable, like back in the ‘50s, for those who care to dress that way? Absolutely. That would be a major improvement for society.

But do I also like that there are other options for those of us who have preferences or issues that make that sort of dress highly uncomfortable? Absolutely.

Why can’t we do both? Isn’t there room for all of us, here on God’s green earth?

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An Adjacent Complaint

But wait, I’m not done yet!

Another issue that I have with these traddy lifestyle extremists is this: they tend to be very well-off financially, and they are quick to assume that everyone else is too.

“Only shop at these special shops I’m recommending that sell nice, quality, beautiful clothes” – okay, but what if I’m on a Goodwill/Walmart budget? Not all of us can afford to have an ~aesthetic~.

“You can shop secondhand and still dress beautifully” – yeah, maybe if you make a whole time-consuming hobby out of it, spending hours and hours of your life scouring the racks at stinky Goodwill for a rare “nice” find (which I acknowledge some people out there love to do, it’s a legit hobby and they call it “thrifting” and I respect it). But not everyone has the time or the energy to do all that!

And even if we did, not all of us have an eye for fashion! Even if I spent hours finding a decent piece at Goodwill that also happened to fit me (odds of both at once are slim to none) – I wouldn’t know how to style it.

“Just make your own clothes, then, like they did in olden times” – um, no. Zero interest, sorry. I’m an ILI, not an SEI. I’m not going to spend precious free time at a sewing machine doing some mindless task when I could be reading or writing or doing something else that’s mentally enriching for me.

“Well, Mith, if this were the olden days, you’d just have to suck it up and sew your own clothes and wear beautiful dresses, even if you were uncomfortable – you wouldn’t have the luxury of choice!” Yeah, true, but, guess what! It’s 2026! Technological advancements exist, and not all of them are bad. Our ancestors wanted an easier life for us, which is why we have options now that they didn’t. We don’t have to pretend it’s the 19th century to be good Catholics.

Do we?

Is it so bad to take advantage of modern conveniences, as long as we do so without sinning? Is it so bad to acknowledge that people have different personalities, different dispositions, and to allow them to act and dress accordingly, as long as they do so without sinning?

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In Conclusion

Now that I’ve had my little tantrum and calmed down, I think what Dr. K was trying to say was: beautiful clothing needs to become the norm again. But, actually, he never said that it’s wrong to not be normal.

So you know what? I agree with him. Beautiful clothes should be the norm. We should bring them back.

But even if we do, I’m still gonna dress in trash bags. I will look around me at all the beautifully-dressed people and go “hurray! Nature is healing!” and keep right on dressing in a trash bag, because evidently I am not done healing yet, and (ugh, gag me, but) maybe that’s okay. Not ideal, but permissible.

So, imo, it is okay to look frumpy. Not ideal, but okay.

Because it’s okay to not be entirely well, and it’s okay to not be normal.

Feel free to try and convince me otherwise in the comments, though.

In the meantime, I think I’m gonna go try to dig up my old jeans and a hoodie.
Should I fast for Lent if I have a history of EDs?, Part Two

February 13th, 2026

And now it’s almost Lent again, and, as always when a penitential season comes around, I am once again asking myself: what should I, as someone with a long history of EDs, do about the whole fasting thing?

I addressed this in a previous post, the tl;dr of which is: most people say that, if you have an ED, you shouldn’t fast from food, but find a different way to fast; to which the voice in my head replies: why? Isn’t it wimpy for me, as someone who struggled for 15+ years but is currently physically fine and in maintenance mode, to claim exemption from fasting? Isn’t that cheating? Wouldn’t the great ascetic saints, the ones who subsisted off Holy Communion alone, scoff at me? Wouldn’t the desert fathers laugh and roll their eyes? “My poor wittle mental health!, fasting might hurt my feewings!, I don’t wike myself, wah wah 🥺”, isn’t that pathetic of me?

(And for the record, as I’m sure anyone with an ED will understand: the voice in my head is only this critical with me — it is not talking about you (it’s like, “other people are allowed to exist, eat, feel, and be vulnerable, but NOT you!!, it’s lame and gross when you do it!”, etc., etc.; we’re all familiar with its double standard, aren’t we?). So I’m not making fun of anyone else, or calling anyone else pathetic — just narrating my own little weird mental process, which maybe some of you can relate to. If you have an ED history, I do NOT think that YOU should fast from food — you are obviously exempt. It’s only me who’s the fat pathetic loser, according to the inner voice.)

So: I’m always wondering: should I fast or no? Am I being hard on myself, or being too soft? What do I do??

Thankfully, I heard a really great sermon on Lenten practices recently, which shed some light on the matter. So here I am to write a follow-up to the post linked above, and to hopefully put this Question That Keeps Me Up At Night to rest once and for all.

In his sermon, this priest clarified some things about Lenten practices. For most of you Catholic readers, these will probably not be news, but I am an idiot and a bad Catholic who needs things boiled down to the basics and spelled out and at like a fourth grade reading level, so for me it was groundbreaking. I had never heard it explained this succinctly before.

Penance and mortification: both are things we resolve to do during Lent. Up until now, I’ve had a pretty nebulous idea of what these were. I thought that they were the same thing, essentially, and tbh never considered that that might not be true.

But actually, if I understood this priest correctly, there are differences between “penance” and “mortification.” The former is a work that we do to atone for past sins. The latter is a discomfort or inconvenience that we voluntarily take on in order to fight ongoing sin/temptation — to counteract a disordered tendency in our current life.

And he went on to explain that, to really have a fruitful Lent, we should practice these in a targeted, specific way, unique to our own personal situation. It’s not just “oh, I’m a sinner so I’ll give up sugar to make myself uncomfortable.” Lent is not about just being uncomfortable for the sake of being uncomfortable. It’s about removing obstacles to God’s grace. Which means that it’s much more useful if we look at our unique sins, imperfections, and bad habits, and tailor our Lenten practices to work against those.

Wow! No one had ever explained it to me like this before. W/r/t Lent, I’d always just been told “prayer, fasting, almsgiving.” Which is obviously good advice. Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are things we should do more of, especially during Lent. But, this priest explained in his sermon, for maximum spiritual benefit, each individual should practice them in an intentional, specific, targeted way.

I’m just a stupid layperson, so what do I know, but: I feel like that’s a really important addendum.

It’s not necessarily a great idea to just tell everyone, in general: “you should fast.” Because what if someone is breastfeeding, or has a history of EDs (it’s me, I am both), or something else like that. “Just fast” is not good advice for that person. Similarly, “just give alms” might not be the best advice for someone with no money to give. Obviously we are all obligated to give money, but “just give more” isn’t always an option for everyone. Some people have to find other ways to be charitable. Humans are messy creatures and life is weird. So it’s complicated sometimes.

Which is why I asked in my previous post: what should someone in my situation do for Lent?

Thanks to this good priest, I see now that our penances and mortifications not only may, but should be tailored to our unique spiritual state, our unique weaknesses.

Maybe not every mortification is equally spiritually beneficial for every person. Someone who struggles with sloth might want to try waking up early and being productive every morning; someone who struggles to sit still in silence and solitude might want to schedule a block of quiet prayer time daily.

Fasting from food is a good practice for someone who has trouble practicing self-control with food. But if someone has the opposite problem, and has trouble letting go of control around food — well, it probably wouldn’t be spiritually beneficial for that person to fast from food, would it?

Which is not to say that I personally intend never to fast from food again. One day when I’m not pregnant or nursing, I look forward to fasting from food in some kind of way (a part of me looks forward to it a little too eagerly, if we’re being honest). But as it is right now, nursing a baby who has a sensitive gut, while also trying to sort of normalize after pregnancy, my diet and body image and mental health are such a touchy balancing act, which I am managing very carefully by only eating safe things at safe times — it’s just a real precarious tower of cards situation, right now — that I wonder if fasting from food just isn’t the wisest idea.

So what will I do then? Well, that will require me to look at myself and my life and figure it out.

But I’m glad that I can stop stressing about this particular question — at least, for this Lent. You’ll probably catch me yakking about it again come Advent.
Is it ok for poor people to have kids?: Part Two

February 1st, 2026

I know I’ve already addressed this topic in a previous post, but I saw a reel today that brought the question once again to the forefront of my mind. (Here it is, if you’re curious.)

The gist of the reel is this: a young mom posted a sweet little video clip of her husband playing with their toddler, and wrote something along the lines of: “I wish more moms knew that it’s possible to have a family on a single income.” She explained in the caption that she’s a stay-at-home mom, and in order to make that work they make a lot of sacrifices. As new parents, she and her husband had faced financial hardship, even resorting to a local food bank once or twice when times were especially hard — but that it was all worth it. Basically, encouraging young women to stop fearing financial hardship, because family is the real wealth.

Lovely, right? I thought so.

But who do we find in the comments but the inevitable crowd of social media mom-shamers: “newsflash, if you need to go to a food bank to feed your kids, then you actually can’t afford kids!” “get a job! By going to the food bank, you’re stealing from people who have no other option! You could get a job but you’re selfishly choosing to stay home with your kids!” “Sure, it’s fine now while he’s a baby, but what happens when that kid grows up and asks for Disney World vacations and the trendy new sneakers like all his classmates are wearing?” Basically, telling her that she should not have had this child.

Wow! Teeth and claws came out. Some of these arguments are more interesting than others. Let’s break them down, shall we.

Keeping in mind this one truth that most people on social media, and in our world today in general, seem to have forgotten: having kids, and raising them well, is a good and important thing to do!

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Argument One: “If you need to go to a food bank to feed your kids, then you actually can’t afford kids!”

She fed her child, didn’t she? For him, it doesn’t matter if the food came from her own paycheck or a food bank (which she only used once or twice anyway, as a last resort). Now, if assistance were unavailable, and there were actually no food to be had (like, I dunno, an extreme wartime ration situation or something), that’d be different. Then maybe it would be unwise to have a kid, because there would be literally no way to legally feed it.

But (and Americans might really need to try and stretch their brains to comprehend this): it is okay to receive help. We should, in fact, help each other. Americans really suffer from this obsession with self-reliance, this isolationist notion that we shouldn’t have to help anyone and shouldn’t accept help from anyone — unless, perhaps, we are literally on the brink of death. Humans in a society are meant to help and support each other.

Moms these days, especially in modern America, don’t have a village around them the way they used to historically. Family units are islands now, expected to do it all themselves. It’s unnatural. It’s not supposed to be like that. People, especially new parents, are supposed to receive help. That’s just how the human race has always functioned.

Caveat here: obviously, a family shouldn’t have a child expecting not to have to work to provide for it. The parents should have a plan for how they will provide for it, doing as much as they reasonably can to be self-sufficient while still prioritizing the wellness of all family members. (There’s a difference between, e.g., an already-exhausted parent taking on a second full time job and sacrificing their sleep, which is probably not an overall good choice for the health of the family, and a parent sacrificing something like hair appointments, “fun” money, vacations, streaming services, etc.: sacrifices that don’t adversely affect the family’s health.) Parents absolutely should plan on making sacrifices and working as hard as they can to feed their kid. You must not start a family with the mindset that “oh, it’s fine, I’ll just go to the food bank or get food stamps or whatever.” That would be absolutely deplorable.

But knowing it’s there for you to use in a real pinch, if plans A and B fail — that’s totally fine and good! That’s what it’s for.

Accepting help in a pinch is not a crime — and, as some wise commenters pointed out, is actually beneficial because it keeps the “help” system running. Food banks are there to be utilized; they only exist if people continue to use them.

This mom did nothing wrong by using her local food bank when she needed to.

And she’s right: parents should be okay with accepting help if they need to. That’s part of being a parent, and one of the reasons assistance programs exist. Having kids is good and important (especially nowadays, with drastically-declining birth rates). It is something that our society should encourage by offering things like food banks and government assistance for parents.

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Argument Two: “Get a job! By going to the food bank, you’re stealing from people who have no other option! You could get a job but you’re selfishly choosing to stay home with your kids!”

This accusation is a bold one!, but, I can tell it’s coming from a place of hurt and frustration, so I will try and be gentle here.

“Selfishly choosing to stay home with your kids.” Let’s think about that. What is the best thing for a child? To be with its mom. You can’t argue with that.

“But Mith, little kids need socialization” — no, they don’t. Not in the form of daycare, at least. That much is certain. Going out to play groups and such with mom, sure! But daycare is neither good nor necessary.

Being around its mom is what a little kid needs, more than luxuries, more than toys or vacations or a big house or whatever. A mom who chooses to stay home is doing the best thing for her kid. She’s not being selfish.

I think people mistake this decision, the decision to stay home, for selfishness, because it is appealing. It is the thing that most moms would like to do. And of course they would! That’s because it’s natural! A mom naturally wants to stay with her kids and take care of her home and husband. That’s the dream job, and the most important job in the world! As C.S. Lewis said, the homemaker’s job is the job that all other jobs exist for.

But sadly, most moms think they “can’t” stay home. And these moms who are suffering from a misguided belief that they “have” to work, get very angry when they see another mom doing the thing they wish they could justify for themselves, but are too afraid to, too hung up on financial comfort.

But the mom who made this post is exactly right. Barring extraordinary situations (like a husband who’s unable to work for health reasons, or a husband whose job pays minimum wage), most moms could stay home with their kids if they were willing to be financially uncomfortable.

And the other thing is, do the people making this accusation realize how expensive daycare is? Do they realize that, for many moms, the cost of daycare would eat up the entire paycheck that they’d be bringing in if they got a job, so literally what’s the point? Net zero gain, or maybe a couple dollars, and a ton of lost time with their kids, not to mention the psychological burden of the separation on both mom and kid. (Even if you’re a mom who likes to be away from your kids, you can’t deny that it’s scary sending your kid to daycare; all these horror stories in the news about kids getting abused and neglected, or worse, at daycare. If you’re a mom and that doesn’t scare you… I dunno what to tell you. Daycare is always a risk.)

Staying home with mom is the best thing for a little kid. Families should do everything they can to make that arrangement work. I daresay they have an obligation to try and keep mom home.

“But what if mom actually thrives at her job, Mith? What if she has a really meaningful career, or even a divine calling of sorts?” Totally valid. Doctors, pediatricians, midwives, teachers and professors, anything, you name it — all meaningful jobs that I can understand a woman feeling called to. But I would argue: can this career really not wait five years? Is it really more important to you than your child’s early years? Can’t you at least cut your hours back? It’s important for moms to stay home with their kids, especially before age six or so.

Which is why it’s anything but selfish for the mom in question to choose to stay home with her kids. She’s doing the best thing for her kid. Her kid needs her more than anything else. That is her duty, her obligation that takes precedence over any other.

“But she technically could get a job! She has the option! Which means that, when she takes from a food bank, she’s stealing food from people who, through no fault of their own, cannot work!”

Let’s be real now. I don’t have a source to back this up, but I’m willing to bet that most people who use food banks probably have, or could have, some kind of income. I don’t think it’s true that the only people who use (or should use) a food bank are those who are completely incapable of working any job. (For those people, there are disability benefits and SNAP, anyway.) If that were the case, food banks would be a lot smaller and less prevalent a thing than they are, and there would be much stricter regulations about who could use them. As we discussed above, food banks exist for anyone in a pinch.

And let’s be realistic here: I seriously doubt that this one mom was stripping the food bank shelves bare. They don’t even let you do that — they have limits on how much each household can receive (at least, the church food pantry where I used to volunteer had such limits, and enforced them strictly). I’m sure they have enough supplies to go around. How likely is it, seriously, that some other family somewhere went hungry because this one mom took her share that day? Come on now.

“But Mith, it’s the principle.” You know what: fair. I agree with that. If we were talking about a lazy mom with no work ethic, no plan to become more self-reliant, no goals, and no remorse, just waltzing into the food bank week after week and scooping up as much as she possibly could, then yes, that would be deplorable and shameful, and would even amount to stealing from the needy. But that is not the same as a motivated mom accepting help in a pinch here and there. Let’s stop reacting emotionally and making ridiculously extreme assumptions about people, just because we’re frustrated about our own situation.

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And, Argument Three: “Sure, it’s fine now while he’s a baby, but what happens when that kid grows up and asks for Disney World vacations and the trendy new sneakers like all his classmates are wearing?”

This is the dumbest and saddest of all the arguments, and one that I already addressed in the aforementioned previous post, but I’ll touch on it again since folks are bringing it up.

Seriously? You think a person’s life is not worth living because that person couldn’t afford the trendy sneakers or the Disney World vacation? You really think a person with financial hardship is just better off not existing? That their entire life and future is automatically a waste? If you genuinely believe that, then I really dunno what to say to you, but I’ll keep you in my prayers.

It’s a sad world where people really think the point of life is to have nice things and be comfortable.

“But Mith, when poor people have kids, it just perpetuates the vicious cycle: the 1% filthy rich minority are in control; this world is their resort, and the rest of us are just their underpaid staff. If poor people stop breeding, the rich won’t have laborers anymore. You are in fact morally obligated to not breed, if you’re poor, for the good of the world.”

Interesting take — I appreciate the commitment, taking the philosophy all the way to its logical conclusion. Because sure, if you really believe that life is only about getting what you want, if that’s really true, then yeah! Absolutely stop breeding and let humanity die out. In fact, let’s all go ahead and kill ourselves right now, because it’s all meaningless.

It’s such a sad and cynical way to think. Thankfully, it’s simply wrong.

My life, my identity, and my purpose are not defined by what my job is. So what if I am a pawn in the billionaires’ game; as long as I’m getting paid my fair wages, it frankly doesn’t matter. Because I care more about my divine Employer than any earthly one. And in God’s eyes, we all have great value. The purpose of life on earth is not to get what we want and be comfortable. It’s to get ready for eternal life. (Which, btw, we can’t do without help. We have to learn to be okay with accepting help, people.)

But even without putting a religious spin on it, you surely can see that anyone who’s not a total nihilist can find value and meaning, joy and beauty and fulfillment, in their life even if they are “just a pawn.” If you really think that life is pointless and you’re better off never being born unless you’re ultra-rich with no day job… then once again, I’m sorry, I dunno what to say to you.

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So to wrap this up: a woman who’s doing something good and important for society and her child by being a SAHM, accepts a bit of help in a totally legal, above-board way, in order to be able to continue doing this thing that’s good for society and her child… and people are attacking her for this? Saying she shouldn’t have had a kid at all? Seriously?! Fuck it, that’s enough internet for today. I’m done.
Am I even a real person?: thoughts on veganism, Catholicism, parenting, & ED recovery

December 31st, 2025

Daily writing prompt
What are your feelings about eating meat?
View all responses

My personal thoughts on eating meat? Oh man. It’s such a complicated question, as are all food-related issues for someone with ED history. My stance on meat has changed so many times, in my thirty-six years. At this point I’m an herbivore who understands carnivores and kinda wishes she could be one. I’m also an accidentally, circumstantially militant vegan with an intentionally, philosophically militant vegan living inside me, whom I can unleash at will when the time feels right. I don’t know what I even identify as, or how to explain it. Where do I even begin!

1. ED-Fueled Vegetarianism

I guess a reasonable place to start would be the beginning of my vegetarianism — although, I don’t actually remember when that officially was. I kind of became one by accident, and then decided to make it official. The ED came first. I stopped eating pretty much anything, and then realized at some point that I’d become vegetarian (none of my safe foods happened to be meat), and I happily assumed that identity because (a) it was an excuse to say ‘no’ to food, much of the time, and (b) it made me feel morally unimpeachable, as if my weirdness about food was actually some noble and unselfish thing (it was not).

But so I was vegetarian as a teenager and into my twenties, on and off. My occasional attempts at “recovery,” when forced upon me, coincided with brief forays into meat-eating, as I was often advised not to enforce any hard “food rules” for the sake of my mental health. I had mixed feelings about that. For me eating meat was always a performative thing for myself, like “ha ha, look at me, I’m having a steak, I don’t care anymore!” Invisible middle fingers to the voices in my head. Needless to say, it wasn’t sustainable.

I think I briefly attempted veganism my junior or senior year of high school, simply out of curiosity; but I found it too demanding then, because dairy is something I’ve always really liked. It was, in fact, a cup of Fage Total with honey that finally swayed me from veganism back then. (Fage is, without question, the best Greek yogurt out there. I dunno what they do to make it so much better than other Greek yogurt; it’s like a different food entirely. No, I’m not being paid to say this.)

Anyway, about four years after that, I was sick of food freedom and its resulting fatness, and once again on a super restrictive diet and, lo and behold, decided to go vegan again. You see the pattern. I was very serious about it now, and really enjoyed it, and it became a huge part of my identity: reading the philosophy, supporting organizations like PETA, all of it. This phase lasted for a while, went away, and made a resurgence after my second child was born in 2021, then went away again. I can take it out of the box and put it on when I want to, then pack it back up.

2. The Dormant Angry Vegan

It’s interesting in retrospect to see how I was (and am) able to look at this belief system from the outside, having no particular emotional connection to it (sure I liked animals, who doesn’t?, but, I’ve never been an “animal lover” per se, nor a hippie nor an environmentalist, and it wasn’t like I’d ever had some heartbreaking, life-changing epiphany about the cruelty in the meat industry or whatever), and just think to myself on some level: “why yes, I think I could happily become a radical animal rights activist. That sounds logically sound and also kinda fun and cool; let’s do it!” And I did really believe it, all that PETA stuff. I read and loved “Animal Liberation” by Peter Singer and “Eating Animals” by Jonathan Safran Foer. I did (and still do) find factory farms deeply appalling and depressing. I truly did get triggered and irritated by people who ate meat. I really did think it was simply an inexcusably ignorant thing to do, and that no meat-eater could ever really call themselves a good person. I completely believed that. (I feel differently about meat-eaters now; more on that later.)

I could step into this identity, but then, I could just turn it off at will. When I got bored of it, or needed a change in my food lifestyle for whatever reason. Which tells me that I could still do that at any time, if I chose to; if I decide to devote the mental energy to it. Vegan Mith still exists, in there, and if I feed her with vegan literature and vegan content, she will grow stronger. I very well might do this at some point in the future, but right now, I just feel a bit too maxed out, between raising little kids, managing the family meal plan and food budget, and trying to be a good Catholic — in which world it’s very uncommon, btw, and even frowned upon to be vegetarian.

I do think that if more Catholics were vegetarian/vegan, I’d probably let Vegan Mith rise to the surface again. Or if my husband, or anyone around me, were veggie. But no one in my life is veggie, so Vegan Mith doesn’t get a lot of stimulation or encouragement, and just lies dormant.

Which shows me something kind of interesting about myself. Apparently it’s true that either (a) my convictions are so feeble that I don’t bother living by them unless it’s amusing or others around me agree with it, or (b) I’m just a fundamentally weak person with few, if any, real convictions.

3. Accidentally Radical WFPB

These days, for the sake of convenience and comfort, I’ve mostly just been plain old vegetarian: the kind who will eat eggs but not fish or any other animal. And even this is not because of any moral convictions, really. It’s just that meat is gross to me, after so many years meatless. I actually kinda wish that I could stomach meat, because more protein would probably be good for me (protein is the hottest trend in nutrition right now! I remember when I was young, it was all about fresh produce, whole grains, and low fat/fat free dairy products; wild how the tides turn). But it’s just gross to me. And at this stage in my life, I simply don’t care to devote too much mental energy to the morality of my diet — which, after surviving decades ruled by a crippling obsession with exactly that, is actually kind of refreshing. So I guess I don’t really care that I don’t care.

But here’s the funny thing. As of writing this post, at age 36, I’ve accidentally become vegan again, and a more strict one than ever before, although not for the animals this time; for an entirely different reason.

My fourth child, who’s five months old and exclusively breastfed, has a sensitive gut. (I strongly suspect it’s because of the IV antibiotics they gave me during labor.) He can’t tolerate it when I consume dairy, egg, (hello again, veganism), soy, or even corn. And soy and corn are in literally everything, it seems! Virtually every processed food item on the grocery store shelves contains soy or corn ingredients. Did you know that? Even things like the ascorbic acid they put in juice to add vitamins, or the chemicals in imitation vanilla extract, or the added vitamins in breakfast cereal or almondmilk, ALL come from freaking corn!

A normal person would probably give up breastfeeding at this point, but not I. (I’ve fed formula before, for unfortunate medical reasons, and loathed everything about it, ugh; the stink, the infinite bottles to wash, the ridiculously high prices, the constipated babies, the having to get up out of bed go downstairs and prep a bottle at 3AM, and worst of all the constant anxiety about the very real threat of factory contamination — I don’t know how you formula moms do it. Nursing is so much easier.) So, for nearly a month now, I’ve been on the cleanest diet I’ve ever been on in my life. I literally only drink water and consume whole foods with straight-out-of-nature ingredients that I can identify and pronounce. And my baby’s gut is doing much better (thanks also to Smidge probiotics, which are expensive but totally worth the price, and once again no I’m not getting paid for this).

Is it hard? For me, not really. I actually love it. The only hard thing for me to give up was almondmilk. But actually, it’s made my life a lot easier, socially speaking. I hate eating in social settings, and hate being offered food, because one layover habit from the years and years of ED is that I prefer to stick with my “safe” foods. And now, I have an excuse! I can’t eat this, I can’t eat that, and for once it’s not that I’m just neurotic — my baby has a sensitive stomach! Tbh I’m kinda dreading my baby turning one (the age when most doctors say these intolerances tend to go away). Because then I’ll have to start pretending to be normal in food situations again.

And here’s the other funny thing about all this. Eating a completely whole foods plant based diet, with zero “processed” ingredients — it feels amazing! I’ve been doing it for about a month now, and I kid you not, I feel lighter on my feet, more energetic, less bloated, more alert, more generally positive — just more in touch with my body or whatever, as lame as that sounds. Even though I’ve been vegan before, I’ve never been completely whole foods vegan before without any processed ingredients. (I’ve always loved my nondairy milks and coffee creamers, cereals, boxed crackers, my Violife cheeses, my tofu and flavored sparkling water and all that fun stuff.) Now, I suddenly see why some people out there are so strict about avoiding processed foods. It really does make you feel better!

All of which makes me feel Vegan Mith gaining strength again. Gaining life, like Mariah Carey as November draws to a close.

4. Catholicism, Kids, and Carnivores

But, being Vegan Mith kind of puts me at odds with my religious community. Traditional Catholics are meat eaters. They’re homesteaders and “live off the land” farmers who raise and slaughter their own meat. I don’t think I could ever do that — I may not be an “animal lover” per se, I’m a bit too indoorsy for that, but I do hate to see animals suffering, and am kind of a softie about it. TradCaths are conservatives and old-fashioned types. In the TradCath world, eating organic, home-grown meat is the healthiest thing for your body. (It’s frustrating how nutrition advice is so different depending on whom you ask; I’ve seriously started to believe that everyone’s body is just different, and nutrition science is not universal.) In the TradCath world, vegetarianism/veganism is for liberals and prissies and hippies and government pawns.

And, you know what? I get it. I can see where they’re coming from. I’m no longer a Peter Singer stan; I do believe that humans are superior to animals (2011 Mith would think I’m a speciesist loser, lol), and that we have dominion over animals. And I do think it seems to check out that raising your own livestock on your own land and slaughtering them yourselves seems like a wholesome and healthy way to live. I’m sure all that protein is great for you. Logically, that sounds perfectly good to me. Which is why I’m no longer the kind of vegan who thinks all carnivores are ignorant, self-deceiving liars. I can see how, philosophically, meat-eating is not only permissible but even good, as long as you’re doing so as ethically as you can.

The other thing that’s changed my POV on carnivores is raising kids. I’m a mom of four kids five and under. And up until this year, I’ve raised my kids vegetarian. But recently I’ve softened their vegetarianism, and feed them meat sometimes; why?

A couple of reasons: (1), my husband is a meat eater, and if I make food that he likes, but the kids can’t eat it, that means I need to make two dinners. I’ve tried for years only cooking vegetarian, but my husband was never really satisfied, and always ended up sneaking out for fast food, so we ended up just spending more money on food than we should have been spending, and it was frustrating. I’m done trying to convert my husband to vegetarianism. I’ve decided to just accept that he is who he is, with food, and tbh it’s kind of a beautiful thing that he doesn’t overthink about it so much, like I do.

And (2), trying to manage four kids is hard. Together, they act like little dervishes, much of the time: a noisy little stampede of small humans, rampaging around my house. It’s incredibly difficult at church. It’s generally true that kids are calmer and better behaved when their bellies are full. And protein does fill you up faster. If I can get my kids to eat a bit of turkey or ham and actually fill up and simmer down and be satisfied, that’s better for all of us than just constant carb and cheese snacks around the clock. They’re so picky that, at this point, I’ll just feed them whatever I can to try and get them to fill up on something that’s not sugar.

However, if I decide to let Vegan Mith out of her cage, and let myself live by vegan principles again… guess I’ll have to figure something else out. Apparently I can choose to have convictions or not to have them. Which leads me to ask myself sometimes: am I even a real person?

5. In Conclusion

All of this to say, it’s a complicated issue; for me, anyway. I could happily be a militant angry vegan, if my circumstances allowed; I could happily be carnivore, if I didn’t mind the way meat made me feel physically. Which perhaps says more about me than it does about the issue. I guess I’m just a flake.

I welcome your comments on any of this, so please do chime in if you have strong feelings or any kind of reaction to this whole issue.
Is it okay for Catholics to do “Santa Claus”?

December 14th, 2025

Tis the season!, the season for me, an American Catholic convert and mom of littles, to once again lose sleep over the ethics of Santa Claus.

Here is the situation, in case you’re not familiar: a great many American Catholic parents, especially the more Traditional ones, are eschewing the annual practice of “Santa Claus.” They don’t tell their kids the story that Santa Claus is a jolly fat guy in a red suit who lives at the North Pole with a bunch of elves and, once a year on Christmas Eve night, hops in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer and delivers presents to boys and girls all around the world, parking on the roof and sliding down the chimney. They just teach their children from the get-go that Santa is just some dumb/silly made-up story, and that Christmas presents come from Mom and Dad.

Why do these parents eschew Santa? As far as I can gather, they do so for two main reasons: (1) to emphasize the real meaning of Christmas, i.e. the Birth of Christ, and not a commercialist orgy of spending and gift-getting; and/or (2) because they see that it’s unethical to lie to their children. Indeed, I’ve even seen claims from Santa-haters that they themselves felt “betrayed” and “traumatized” when they, as children, found out that Santa was not real and their parents had been deceiving them all along.

I will address these in order.

But first, a sliver of my personal background, so you can see where I’m coming from. I was not raised in a Christian household. My family home was happy and loving, but decidedly secular. Did Santa come to my house? You bet he did! It was magical – it was some of the happiest memories of my life, the whole Christmas season, everything about it. I’ve always loved Christmas.

When did I find out that Santa wasn’t real?: It happened organically. No one ever told me; there was no light bulb moment. I grew up and gradually made sense of what was really going on, and realized that, on some level, I had kind of known it all along. Was I sad? No. By the time I was old enough to accept that Santa was a story, I was old enough to not feel sad about it.

Did my parents lie to me? Did I feel betrayed?: No, and absolutely not! Not to invalidate anyone’s trauma, but I do think this is a kind of silly thing to call “betrayal.” (Feel free to debate me on this, though.) I do not really agree that doing Santa is “dishonest,” and here’s why:

There is a difference between telling a story/playing a game, and telling a lie. The former means: play, enchantment, creating magical childhood memories, levity, all in fun, with the intention of spreading joy. The latter is not about magic or innocent fun, but deliberate deception for some self-centered reason. Maybe the difference is too subtle for some of these mad trads to grapple with, or maybe they just haven’t thought too hard about it.

One example I like to use is this thing my MIL used to do for my husband when he was a little boy. She’d collect dollhouse furniture, and surreptitiously set it up in cute little arrangements in nooks and crannies around their house and yard, which my husband would then discover with delight, and she would tell him it was the fairies’ home. As a forty-year-old man, he still talks about this and how cool it was for him, as a kid, and he credits his Mom’s creativity for fostering his passion for fantasy and storytelling. Was my MIL lying to him? Was my husband betrayed and traumatized when he grew into the knowledge that the fairies weren’t real? Of course not!

To be fair, I guess you could argue that it can’t be called just a “story” or a “game” if one party doesn’t know that it’s a story or a game. Is it really a fair game if it’s one-sided? So maybe therein lies these Trad parents’ beef with Santa.

We should consider, though, the precious innocence of childhood: for young children, magic is entirely possible; the distinction between real and story is less clear. And while this absolutely doesn’t mean we should take advantage and deceive them, because they are people and have dignity, it does give parents a unique opprtunity to create magic for their kids through things like play, games, and stories. (Remember the movie Pan’s Labyrinth?) A child’s innocence is a beautiful thing. They are able to believe in fantastical things. Why not let magic be real for as long as it can, as long as it’s presented in a harmless and loving way?

“But is any lie ever harmless?,” you may be asking. Good question. This is an interesting point, and it is one that I keep in mind when doing Santa with my kids.

How can I make “Santa” distinct from straight-up deception? How can I ensure that I’m not just lying to my kids? Here’s my personal take:

– Whenever I speak of Santa Claus, I do so with levity, in a playful way. I don’t try to explain the logistics realistically, in literal terms, nor do I make serious threats about Santa bringing coal instead of presents or whatever.

– I try to remember to always preface claims about Santa with “According to legend, …” or “As the story goes…”

– If my child asks questions about the details of how Santa functions, my response is something like: “What do you think?” “That’s just what the story says.” “How do you think that works?”

– I’ll even tell them things like “the legend of Santa Claus arose from the real Saint Nicholas…”, i.e. sneaking in little admissions that it’s a legend without explicitly saying so.

“But still,” you may be arguing: “even if you can manage to keep it a harmless game, all this Santa Claus nonsense detracts from the real point of Christmas!”

Another fair point, and one that I make a concerted effort to address. The first two-thirds of my life I had no religion, and the first five-sixths of my life I had no children, so this whole “Catholic Christmas with Kids” thing is pretty new to me, and doesn’t come naturally.

How can I incoroprate “Santa” into a proper Traditional Catholic celebration of Christmas?

– Santa Claus and Saint Nicholas are the same person, in our house. I’ve taught my kids how the two names are synonymous: “Santa” = “Saint” and “Claus” = short for Nicholas. As we see it, he stops by on his feast day to leave a few goodies in the shoes, then comes back again with more gifts on Jesus’ birthday (which is obviously the more important day, for him, because as a Saint he loves Jesus very much!).

– When my kids start asking questions like “so does St. Nicholas come down from heaven?”, “I thought he lived at the North Pole?”, “Does he really have elves?”, I just respond with “I don’t know; that’s just how the legend goes,” et cetera.

– I have explained also that, while some people draw Santa as fat and silly, that’s probably not what he actually looked like.

– Gifts are secondary to the religious celebration. I try to remind them of this constantly by: going to Mass before we open presents, discussing the reason why we give presents on Christmas, and giving mostly religious-themed gifts.

– We also observe Advent and the full Christmas season, leaving decorations up and continuing to listen to Christmas music and do Christmas activities all the way through the twelve days.

“That’s all well and good, Mith,” you may be saying; “but why not just do away with Santa entirely? Wouldn’t that make it easier to keep the focus on Christ?”

Well, maybe in some ways it would. Why incorporate Santa? Well, I guess simply because, it’s fun! It’s magical! It brings us joy! And furthermore, we’re Americans, and Santa is an American thing. He’s part of our culture.

“SMFH. Your poor kids are going to be so confused,” you might be saying. I hope not! I admit, I do worry about this, because I’m the only person I know who does things this way, and I’m a bit insecure about it. But I hope that, if I keep being tactful and lighthearted about Santa Claus in the ways I’ve described, my kids will naturally make sense on their own, in time, of the fact that the flying reindeer and the “coming down the chimney with a sack of toys” stuff is just a legend.

And besides, one small beef that I have with the Anti-Santa Trads: why is it that y’all say it’s a “lie” and “unethical” to tell your kids Santa brings presents on Christmas – but it’s okay to play such games when it’s Saint Nicholas “bringing presents” on Saint Nicholas Day? I get the feeling that a lot of these Trads just resent Santa because he’s a popular, mainstream thing of secular American origin. Like they’re trying to be all hipster about it, refusing to like something that other, less-cool people also like. To which I would respond: come on now, it’s okay to like things. We needn’t take ourselves so seriously. Should I also refuse to wear socks because secular people wear socks? Should I refuse to eat bananas because non-Catholics grow and sell them?

“But Mith, it’s different,” you might argue. “Santa is a commercialist distortion of a real Christian Saint. Socks and bananas are neutral.” I actually would argue that Santa is also neutral. His holiness or baseness depends upon how you choose to implement him in your house.

And as I was saying above, one other thing we American Catholics have to consider is: we are American. (If your family’s immigrated to the US relatively recently, I’m not talking to you; I’m addressing those of us whose families have been American for many generations.)

America is not a Catholic country. (It’s arguably kind of an anti-Catholic country, if you look at its history and founding principles, but that’s another story.) Other countries around the world have all kinds of unique and beautiful Christmas traditions specific to their cultures. America’s holiday traditions are all vaguely Protestant in flavor, but mostly secular/commercial. Like, spinoffs of spinoffs of the real thing. Any cool Catholic traditions that are practiced in the US were brought here from other places. There really is no such thing as American Catholic culture.

So how do those of us who come from a secular, all-American background celebrate Christmas without just appropriating other cultures’ traditions? Well, I guess we could simply appropriate other culture’s traditions. But that would feel kind of forced and fake (to me, anyway, as the most boring and basic of plain white Americans). Isn’t there some way to begin to create a Christmas tradition that is authentically Catholic and authentically American? Is it possible to do both? This is the question that comes into my mind this time of year, and it’s from this question that my whole approach to Santa Claus stems.

Because how can we create a Traditional Catholic American culture, in general? Our country is so young, and Traditional Catholics are such a minority; it’s still a work in progress. Will we do it by deliberately re-creating other countries’ traditions here in the US – basically larping as Europeans? Or, will we let our culture grow organically, by incorporating and sanctifying elements of the culture that’s already around us? I feel like the latter option is more in keeping with how tradition actually works.

All of which is why, after much stress, angst, deliberation, and prayerful consideration, I’ve decided that it is possible, and even good, for a Catholic family to do “Santa” with their kids. I don’t think it’s a lie or imcompatible with practicing the faith. Indeed, I think it might even be a good and healthy way to let our Catholicim and our Americanness coexist and grow together. I think it’d be cool to see American Catholic Christmas become its own thing over time; and if it does, I think it could, or even should, include Santa Claus.

In conclusion, as the song goes: “let’s give thanks to the Lord above, ’cause Santa Claus comes tonight!”
Are homesteaders morally superior to the rest of us? (Part Two)

December 12th, 2025

Previously, I published a post wondering whether homesteaders are morally superior to the rest of us. Since the time of its publication, I’ve been pondering this question further, and have spent more time with this whole homesteading, “return to the land” philosophy and with people who live by it. I’ve also been examining my own circumstances and beliefs and how those all line up, and trying to problem-solve; and, I actually feel like I may have figured this one out. Or at least made significant headway.

Which does not happen too often with these little “Questions that Keep Me Up at Night;” so, on this momentous occasion, allow me to elaborate a bit on my findings, if you care.

Are homesteaders morally superior to the rest of us?: No!, not necessarily. Is homesteading a morally superior way of life? No, not necessarily. So why then does it appear that way? Whence the confusion? Where does morality factor into this decision, which so many Catholics are making, to buy a bunch of land and livestock and become more self-sufficient? It can’t just be a random coincidence, that so many Catholics just love farming.

And no, it isn’t just a coincidence. The thing is, and this is what I’ve figured out: homesteading is simply the option that makes the most sense, for most Catholic families. Why? Because, if you take the “openness to life” thing seriously, you are likely to have more than the average number of kids. (See, when I wrote Part One, I still only had three kids. Now I have four, and the difficulty has leveled up, and now I see all of these things in a new light.)

So if you’re a faithful Catholic who’s open to life: how are you going to feed all those kids? Groceries are stupid expensive right now. Producing your own food saves money in the long run.

And what are you going to do with all those kids all day? If you live in the city or the suburbs, you’re probably going to be stuck inside most of the time. (Sure, there was once a time, not too long ago, when the suburbs were a safe place for kids to go outside and just roam and play with their friends for hours, unsupervised; but this is 2025. Those days are sadly gone.) Which means, if you want them to have stimulation and activities and fresh air, you’ll have to take them to the park, or sign them up for activities in town, all of which cost money, time, and effort. Which is kind of an unnatural way to live, and very tiring. Living on your own land, your kids can roam outside all day for fun and stimulation and, when they’re able, do actual, meaningful work to contribute to the home economy.

Not to mention, all of those kids being inside all day is going to make your house a huge freaking mess, which you’ll never be done cleaning up, and it will be extremely hard (extremely hard, I emphasize, as a mom of four living in a relatively small house) to keep the house orderly, clean, pleasant, peaceful, and comfortable for your family. How to fix this?: Send them outside! If you have land, your kids being outside most of the time means it’ll be easier to keep your house clean.

Which is kind of necessary, for a good Catholic family life. A clean, orderly, and pleasant house is not a luxury, but a requirement. It doesn’t have to be lavish, but it does have to be clean and at least somewhat aesthetically-pleasing. That much is needed, for basic quality of life: for sanity, safety, and function. And having a lot of small kids running around your small house all the time, makes it virtually impossible to meet this standard. So if you can’t afford to hire nannies and housekeepers or simply don’t want to, having land to let the kids spend time outside is just a sensible solution.

Limiting kids’ screen time is a constant effort, when you live in the suburbs/city. Because what if you need to clean the house or cook something? (Please, don’t give me the bleeding heart “just let your kids help! Kids love to help!” argument. I’m all for letting kids help where they’re able, and definitely do this as often as I can, but sometimes, we actually need to accomplish a task, and do so efficiently. Have you ever tried to let a three-year-old “help” you fold laundry or cook breakfast?) What are you supposed to with kids number 1-3 while kid 4 is getting a bath? You can’t just send them outside to play – it’s not safe. There are times when a mom needs her kids to be otherwise occupied – for them to not be actively worsening the mess. Living on your own land, kids can go outside. In the suburbs, you have to find something to do with them inside, and sometimes, screens are a lifesaver. I’d even argue that, in 2025 in the suburbs, sometimes they’re necessary.

“But you have a backyard,” you might be saying. “Just fence in your backyard.” True, but fencing is expensive, and even if you can afford it, you have limited space, and limited privacy, in a suburban backyard. Sure the kids can play out there, until they get bored, but it’s not the same as them really free ranging out in nature.

And privacy would make it way easier to actually go outside and stay outside, when you have little kids. Because I don’t know about you, but I find have a really hard time keeping my little kids fully clothed. So every time I send them outside, I have to get them dressed again – and not infrequently, my two-year-old will get partly undressed while playing outside. If I didn’t have neighbors on all sides, this wouldn’t be such a problem. In short, backyards can’t really compete with a private plot of farmland out in nature.

So, yeah. It’s not a matter of Catholics doing the homesteading thing because it’s morally superior or whatever. It just simply makes the most sense, in this day and age when everything is wildly expensive and public places aren’t safe. It’s more work, having a farm, but also, in some ways, actually significantly less work. Both lifestyles have their challenges, and can be done well or poorly.

Going back to the three moms in my previous post: I no longer think it’s true that Marge is better or more Catholic than Fran and Lois. It would just seem that, for whatever reason, Marge and her husband chose to simplify their time and budget by living on a farm. Maybe Fran and Lois are less concerned with budget, or maybe they simply prefer the hustle and bustle. Maybe they have a greater capacity for controlling the chaos inside the house, even with all the kids running around in it. Not a moral failing; we all have to choose our battles, don’t we?

So in conclusion, I’ve realized myself through experience how difficult life in the suburbs is, when you have lots of kids, and how it just makes more sense for the good of the family to live on a farm. Not only for the reasons listed above, but also for the ones I touched on in my previous post: you’re less reliant on The System, less vulnerable in the event of some kind of apocalyptic event; as well as probably healthier, ingesting fewer toxins and microplastics, and encountering less risk of contamination; also, an opportunity to live closer to God, in very real dependence upon Him, the way our ancestors did. Which is not to say that all Catholic farmers are automatically doing better than Catholic city-dwellers. I think either life can be lived well.

So yes, even I, who am always yakking about how not-outdoorsy I am and how much I hate dirt, heat, and bugs, have decided that I would like to eventually have some land, a big garden, and some chickens and goats. Would I enjoy it? Probably not, but, it just makes more sense.

The problem, though, is that in order to have this simple, cost-effective lifestyle, one has to have a lot of money upfront. To purchase the land, the animals, the supplies. Back in the day, it seems, farming was for the poor and simple folks; these days, it’s like only rich people can afford to live this simply! However, I’m not here to complain about The System or bemoan my own financial situation. I’m just here to wrap up this one particular Question that Keeps Me Up at Night. What a relief. I may never be able to afford to actually live on a homestead, but at least now I know I’m not morally inferior for living where I do.
Should Catholics celebrate Halloween?

October 30th, 2025

It’s that awful time of year again!, when all of Catholic/Christian Internet is blowing up and biting each others’ heads off about whether Christians should celebrate Halloween or not. Mostly, it’s Protestants making reels saying “we shouldn’t celebrate Halloween because it’s the devil’s birthday and if your children dress up they will become possessed” or some such, and Catholics stitching these reels with “acktchyoowally, All Hallow’s Eve is a Catholic holiday, the eve of All Saint’s Day, and a great time to pray for the dead and partake in some innocent fun, such as eating candy, carving pumpkins, and dressing up, as long as it’s nothing gory or demonic.” Then below those posts, you have other Catholics in the comments actually agreeing with the Protestants and saying that Catholics shouldn’t have anything to do with secularist Halloween traditions, that the forces of evil have taken over what ought to be a holy day.

Everyone’s talking about it, so as a Catholic blogger, I guess I feel the urge to throw my two cents in there as well. I think I have a somewhat unique POV to offer, and will try not to just rehash everything you’ve probably already seen/heard on social media.

Personally, I am against Halloween. But, I do allow and tolerate it in my house to an extent.

My opposition to Halloween predates any actual moral convictions about it. Even as a kid growing up in an atheist family, I simply didn’t like it. Halloween 1996: got sick on Tootsie Rolls and threw up a lot; subsequently developed a phobia of vomiting. Halloweens 1997-2000: a constant series of stresses and fiascoes, competitiveness, weariness, annoyance, every year asking “why do I still do this every year?! I hate this!” Halloween 2007: I was the awkward miserable kid tagging along with my BFF to her friends’ Halloween party, silently looking on as the guy that I was obsessed with showed attention instead to the aforementioned BFF, who was in every way more desirable than me. Halloween 2020: my beloved dog got sick and a few days later died. I can’t recall ever a “good Halloween” experience in my whole life!

Don’t get me wrong, I love Fall: I love apple cinnamon everything, pumpkin patches, orchard visits, colorful leaves, scarecrows, flannel, moody fall scenery, cemeteries in mist, and all of that. It’s just the pageantry and “spooky” and blood-and-gory everything, the parties and revelry, that I’ve never liked. I hate costumes. I hate going to strangers’ houses uninvited, I hate asking people for stuff, I hate partying. I have a troubled relationship with candy. After dark, I like to be indoors in my bathrobe with the TV on. Secular Halloween festivities simply don’t agree with me. It just never goes well.

When I had my own kids, I did do Halloween with them, the first few years, because it is simply the thing to do with your kids, in America; it’s just part of being a parent, I figured. That’s just American culture, it’s what you do. And it was kinda fun and all, dressing up my kids in their cute little costumes and carving pumpkins. Nothing wrong with it, I thought. A bit of extra stress, something else I had to scour Pinterest for and spend money on and try and make happen, but that was all.

But then, I became Traditional Catholic, and learned about the reasons why some tradcaths spurn Halloween. And I felt vindicated: so I was right all along, about this “holiday!” It is bad news!

“But it’s a Catholic holiday!,” some influencers argue. “Don’t forego it – reclaim it!”

Exactly. Reclaim it by going to Mass and praying for the dead – not by joining in the secular nonsense!

And as for the first part of that argument, that it’s a Catholic holiday and that makes it okay: arguments like this really annoy me. Citing the antiquated origins of something as a reason for why it’s good or not. The way some people will say that the swastika is an innocent symbol because “well, before the Nazis it was a symbol of good luck!” Okay, sure, but you know what, certain things have happened between now and then! That symbol has a whole other connotation now that you cannot just choose to ignore! Or that (one of my dear husband’s favorite fun facts:) pink is actually a masculine color because the fearsome, bloodthirsty Vikings had pink sails on their ships. That may be true, but that doesn’t change the years and years of associations around the color pink that exist in our culture; knowing this historical fact about the Vikings is not going to change anyone’s impression of you if you, as a straight man in this day and age, go around loving pastel pink.

That’s how I feel about Halloween. True, it has Catholic origins – but that fact alone does not make the secularized version of Halloween a good thing. That would be like if we all started idolizing and celebrating some trashy celebrity who stars in x-rated films just because she was baptized Catholic when she was a baby. No! Catholics wouldn’t “reclaim” such a figure by engaging with her sinful content. The only thing we would want to celebrate, in that hypothetical situation, is that celebrity’s repenting and returning to the faith.

Which is just what we should want for Halloween. Halloween, imo, should be about going to Mass and praying for the dead on the eve of November, the month of the holy souls.

However! These are my personal views and feelings. But, as I said above, I do allow and tolerate Halloween in my family home.

Why? Well, because: my husband’s views are different from mine. He loves Halloween, much the same way I love Christmas. Carving pumpkins and trick-or-treating with the kids and showing them Halloween movies is really important to him. And our marriage predates my little moment of vindication, my realization that Halloween actually is bad beyond just my personal icky associations. So, it wouldn’t be fair, for me to just suddenly demand that we ban Halloween. And I won’t do that, because I love and respect my husband; I’m not going to try and tell him he can’t have Halloween fun with his kids.

Now, if I believed that trick-or-treating and carving pumpkins were an actual sin, sure I’d probably try and fight him on it. Compromise is necessary in a marriage, and we must yield somewhere, but we must never compromise on sin.

I’m not sure I’m convinced that it’s actually sinful, though, to trick-or-treat or to carve a pumpkin or to dress up in costume. I’m not one of those who belives that simply by participating in those festivities with an innocent heart, you’re vulnerable to demonic possession.

As long as costumes and decorations don’t involve any “undead” things that make light of the desecration of a human body, or demons, or witches, or murderers, or anything like that, I’m not too worried about it being a sin. Things my kids have dressed up as for Halloween include: bumblebees, dinosaurs, bunny rabbits, and, this year, owls. Pretty sure there’s nothing dangerous about this. I’m open to having my mind changed, though, so if any Catholic readers out there have a really strong case for why even these little pastimes are dangerous, please do send me your thoughts.

It may not be a sin, technically, but that doesn’t mean I like it. I tolerate some Halloween, with restrictions, in order to appease my beloved husband. Because I don’t believe that all its trappings are evil simply because they are part of Secular Halloween. I’m not scared of Halloween, nor should any Christian be. It’s more like: this is just in bad taste; why would you do this, if you’re really a Christian?

It’s hard, here in the US, where Secular Halloween is such a part of the everyday. I remember wearing costumes to class, back when I was in public elementary school in the late ‘90s. “What are you gonna be for Halloween?” is a run-of-the-mill small-talk question, in conversations with kids. My daughters had Costume Week at their ballet studio this week (and yes, they did dress up as owls, which was a pretty funny spectacle in a roomful of pretty little princesses and unicorns and cheerleaders and Disney heroines). It’s just everywhere. As Americans, this is our culture. So, I guess it’s really hard, for American Catholics, to separate the secular from the religious Halloween. But, imo, it’s worth the effort, even if it makes you look weird. We should look weird, to a culture that’s so un-Christian! Frankly, I would love to eschew Secular Halloween entirely – but, love makes us do silly things I guess.

Now, when it comes to Secular Christmas, I think the same issue exists: for American Catholics, it can be tricky to figure out how much of the secular is okay to include in a proper Christian observance of the holiday. And there’s all this debate around it. Should Catholics do “Santa Claus”? I have a lot of feelings about this question, too, because unlike Halloween I actually like secular Christmas – quite a lot, lol. But, this question is slightly more nuanced, to me, because secular Christmas doesn’t exactly make a mockery/distortion of the Christian holiday the way secular Halloween makes a mockery/distortion of All Hallow’s Eve. I guess it could be argued that the commercialization of Christmas does just that – but, gift-giving is still a part of a proper Christian Christmas, right? It’s just that the secular version gets a bit carried away with it. Anyway – this is probably a post that I’ll write later, when that time of year comes around.

In my household, I handle this Halloween compromise the same way I handle my vegetarianism (my husband’s a carnivore). I still cook and serve meat, I just don’t eat it myself, and my kids know that I don’t like it. One day, they’ll choose for themselves whether they want to eat meat or not. Similarly, my kids know that I don’t like Halloween. Maybe, when they get older, they’ll also come to dislike this holiday. At the very least, I aim to shelter them from the ugly aspects of it for as long as they’re under my roof, and to teach them the real meaning of All Hallow’s Eve.

So yes: in my opinion, secular Halloween is a bad idea and Christians should not observe it. However, I also think it can be done innocently, if for whatever reason you really want to (which, why would you, unless you were married to a Halloween lover). I don’t think it’s scary or evil or going to corrupt your soul. And it goes without saying that certain Halloweenish themes like murder, the undead, witchcraft, and devils, are nothing to celebrate – and that certain popular Halloween habits like immodesty and gluttony are sins to be avoided. If you must do it, keep it clean, but really, why do it? That’s just my take. If you’re reading this, I wish you a blessed All Hallow’s Eve.
Have I been going about this all wrong? (100th post!)

September 24th, 2025

How fitting that my one hundredth post on this silly little blog should contain a silly little epiphany about the previous ninety-nine posts of said blog.

It seems I’m always going on about whether it’s okay to do this, whether it’s okay to do that. You probably find it annoying, and believe me, I do too! Sometimes while wondering about all these various conundra, I lapse into meta-wondering, and ask myself: why is it that I wonder about these things? Why can’t I just intuit what is the right thing to do in these situations? Why is it that some people, like the saints for example, just know what the right thing to do is?

And it occurred to me: I think the problem might be that I’ve been coming at this from the wrong angle.

“Can I get away with this?” “Can I get away with that?” “Is it permissible to do xyz?” Yikes. Imagine if your best friend or your spouse approached your relationship with that kind of attitude! If your husband was all “hey, I know it’s not cheating, technically, so is it permissible to stare at other women’s butts now and then if it’s just for a few seconds?”, or if your best friend was like “as long as I’m not actually making fun of her, is it okay if I just chuckle a little when someone else makes fun of her behind her back? because nothing personal but it was a really funny joke” – Both of these would be pretty abhorrent, wouldn’t they?

If you really love someone, it’d be pretty unthinkable to approach your relationship with them that way. The saints would approach their relationship with God from a perspective not of “how much can I get away with?” but “how much can I give up to please Him? How can I possibly give more?”

If something is at all questionable, then giving it up for God’s sake ought to be a no-brainer! It ought to be seen as a delight, even a privilege! The more unnecessary pleasures we have the opportunity to give up for God, the more sacrifices we can offer Him, the luckier we are, the more blessed we will be, right?

So why don’t I just do it then! Why do I still enjoy my little unnecessary, frivolous, worldly pleasures.

Well, because I guess it could be argued that doing so helps me to function well, by generally easing the burden of existence enough that it’s somewhat easier to do my work? But, maybe I shouldn’t be trying to ease the burden. Maybe I should be trying to take on more of a burden. That’s what a saint would do, isn’t it?

I could continue to argue at this point, and keep trying to poke little holes and make little excuses here and there for why unnecessary pleasures are actually okay, but I’m starting to feel like maybe the saints are really just people who (to radically oversimplify) are better at being uncomfortable than most of us. Maybe they didn’t actually enjoy discomfort any more than the next person, they just did it anyway.

Now I’m not trying to be like super extreme or anything. I’m well aware that even traditional priests and religious set aside time for recreation. But in these cases, “recreation” is limited, both in quantity and quality, to just what is necessary to refresh the soul, and it’s nothing unwholesome: things like outdoor sports, crafts, reading, talking with others, etc. They’re not, like, scrolling instagram or watching netflix or listening to shitty music or snacking on junk food or reading crime thrillers. They’re not doing anything that could be described as “lazy” or “trashy,” I’m pretty sure.

Is there ever an excuse for any pleasures that are useless/trashy/lazy? Sure, I could just go “well, I’m not a saint yet, no point pretending I am one” and proceed to listen to my trash music and watch my trash reels and shows and eat cookies. But how else will I become a saint if I don’t give up all that junk? Is there room in a healthy diet for junk food? – When I was very serious about being skinny, I believed that there was absolutely no room for empty calories, which I can see now was disordered; am I falling once again into the trap of black/white thinking? Is it disordered to worry that there is no room for useless pleasures on the path to becoming a saint? Or is that really true?

On the one hand: if I really love God, why would I waste a single second on anything that might be less than pleasing to Him? If I even begin to realize how much I owe Him, then why would I still try to get away with even the slightest questionable behavior?

On the other hand: God in His infinite mercy and wisdom loves me even as the little trash person that I am, and He has a design for me that perhaps I should trust in; He will elevate me to holiness if and when He chooses to, and there’s nothing I can do about it, so perhaps I should just accept that as long as I’m doing my prayers and receiving the Sacraments and trying to avoid sin and all, I’m doing well enough for my state in life, and leave any advancements up to God?

There are a lot of directions that I could take this in right now – my train of thought is branching off along like six different little paths right now – but, I’ll try to keep it concise. Probably the mere fact that I take all this time to write these stupid, rambly blog posts is just evidence of how far I am from holiness. Happy one hundredth post! Isn’t this apt. May God have mercy on me for my trashiness.
Is it ok to separate the artist from the art?

August 4th, 2025

(Caution: spoilers for Sandman season two!)

I ask this today because, currently, my husband and I are watching, and really enjoying, season two of The Sandman. But this is not the first time I’ve had the occasion to worry about this particular question.

As you may know, I’m a huge fan of David Foster Wallace, whom some people out there claim ought to be “canceled” because of certain shitty things that he did to people during his life. I’m also a fan of certain songs by Chris Brown, as well as makeup products and tutorials by Jeffree Star, both of whom have also done shitty things in the past. I’m sure that plenty more of my favorite writers/celebrities have done problematic, cancel-worthy things, but these are just the few that come to mind at the moment.

Am I a bad person for continuing to allow myself to enjoy The Sandman? (The show specifically, not the books; I did read the first book or two, back in like 2015, because my boyfriend at the time (who’s now my husband) was a huge fan of the series; I thought they were pretty cool, but they didn’t captivate me enough to want to read the rest; plus, the bf admitted to me that he’d long had a crush on the character Death, which obviously pissed me off and turned me off from the whole series, lol.) Am I a bad person for continuing to enjoy DFW, Chris Brown, and Jeffree Star, even though I know they’ve done inexcusable things? Can we separate the artist from the art? Or, more importantly, should we?

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I have a lot of things I could say about The Sandman from a Catholic POV – how sometimes it completely misses (it presents an inaccurate picture of God and religion in general, and also, it unfortunately gets pretty woke), but other times gets it beautifully right (like with the character of Fiddler’s Green, who’s inspired by the brilliant Catholic writer G.K. Chesterton; or like with some of the ideas about heaven and hell and who goes to hell and why; or like that scene in season two where the Pope “approves female priests” (I was starting to throw up a little in my mouth) and then we see that the “Pope” is actually Loki in disguise and the real Pope is locked up in a faerie-dust-induced coma somewhere, lol; that was actually not too far from accurate, I mean obviously Loki is fictional, but it is true that evil, the smoke of satan, has corrupted the heart of the Church!). But, I won’t go into all of that here, because the question at hand is not whether the show is good, but whether it’s okay to like this show at all, knowing that its author is probably guilty of sexually assaulting multiple women. (I say “probably” because I don’t know if it was ever definitively “proven” that he did, and I like to always give people the benefit of the doubt; but I did read that the evidence against him is really strong, and that he apparently even paid large sums of money to multiple people to get them to keep quiet about him, which really doesn’t look good for him, unfortunately.)

Can we separate the artist from the art? Well, whether one can or not is subjective, isn’t it?

For me, in the case of The Sandman, I both can and cannot. I’m still able to enjoy the show. I’m enjoying it very much! But, at the same time, I can’t really forget, even while watching the show, about the allegations. Like, the whole plot thread about the Lady Nuala being “gifted” to Morpheus to do with whatever he liked… knowing that that was written by a dude who SAs women, kinda gave me the ick. Pretty much all of the sexual scenes gave me an extra bit of ick, honestly. I already dislike sex scenes, but they’re even more repulsive when you know that they originated in the mind of a rapist.

So, my enjoyment of the art is definitely colored by what I know about the artist. But, for me personally, it’s not to the point where I can’t enjoy the art. Because it’s also a really compelling story, and I have to know what happens! I guess if the story were less good, it wouldn’t be worth sitting through the moments where I remember and get the ick; but for me, in this case, it balances out.

However, I imagine if I were a family member of one of his victims, I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to tolerate it at all. If I were the mother of one of those victims, there’s no way I could stand to watch even a single second of this show, or to read a single word of anything NG ever wrote! Or if I were myself a survivor of SA, I might have a stronger reaction.

But, shouldn’t I – as a Christian especially! – be so empathetic as to be unable to tolerate anything NG ever wrote? Isn’t it a moral failing that I’m not disgusted enough to boycott The Sandman? I ought to love my fellow humans so much that their suffering is personal to me, even if they’re not my daughter or myself. Right?

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Another example people like to bring up w/r/t the whole artist/art separation issue is Hitler’s paintings. We all know that Hitler painted pictures, and that he applied to art school and was rejected. If you’ve ever seen his pictures, you know that they’re really not bad. They’re technically very good. They’re kind of soulless, lacking a certain vitality or warmth or emotion or something, but as architectural drawings, they’re very nice!

Is it okay to look at, for example, Hitler’s painting of Neuschwanstein Castle, and enjoy it? It’s a pretty picture. I wouldn’t hang it on my wall or anything, but, what if someone else wanted to? What if someone else just really likes a nice technically-proficient but heartless painting of a building? Would it be a moral failing for that person, knowing who the artist was and what he did, to purchase a print of that painting, frame it, and hang it on the wall in their house? There was an episode about this in season one of Justified, actually!: there was a character who was an avid collector of Hitler paintings, and yes, the guy was a scumbag! But, in theory, could you enjoy Hitler’s artwork without being a scumbag yourself? I’m not sure; I kind of think not. His crimes were so horrific that I really can’t see how anyone with an iota of knowledge of history could possibly separate the artist from the art, in that case.

But shouldn’t I feel the same way about NG as I do about Hitler? – Is the former as bad as the latter? I think not. Hitler is like the go-to example when talking about moral problems, but perhaps it’s not fair to always compare people to him. Even if so, does that make it okay to enjoy The Sandman, just because raping several people isn’t as objectively bad as murdering zillions of them?

Should we permit ourselves to separate artist from art, even if we can? Shouldn’t we boycott content from bad people on principle, even if we’re tempted to enjoy it because it’s fun?

On this same note, let’s think about Chris Brown. Super talented artist! I’m pretty obsessed with some of his songs. I still listen to them, even knowing what he did to Rihanna. Is that a moral failing on my part? Shouldn’t I be so horrified by his actions that I just can’t stomach the sound of his voice? I imagine, if I were Rihanna’s mom, I’d feel that way; but shouldn’t I, as a mom of girls – as a Christian – as a human being!! – have that reaction anyway?! I probably should.

But, even if I’m not repulsed by the sound of his voice, shouldn’t I boycott his music on principle, because I know it’s the right thing to do?

This one, I’m not so sure about. Chris Brown, DFW, and Jeffree Star: these are all people who, as I personally see it, made mistakes in their past which they regretted. They have dark pasts, they were deeply troubled – which is not an excuse for hurting others, not at all, because you can be a troubled person without hurting others; but it does explain why they behaved the way they did, because people who are hurt do tend to hurt others. It’s not right, but it’s a common symptom. But, such people can grow and change and see where they messed up and work on themselves and be better. Which I know Jeffree and Chris both did. (DFW, I’m not sure about the details, but I know that he was in a committed monogamous relationship at the time of his death, which I’ve read was healthy and unproblematic; and from what I’ve read about him, he didn’t exactly feel great about the way he’d handled his earlier relationships.) People like this, repentant sinners, I find it easier to empathize with and forgive than someone like Hitler. So, I’m not sure if I agree that these people deserve to be canceled. NG doesn’t seem like a repentant sinner, though. To the best of my knowledge, he’s basically admitted to being an asshole, but not to committing any crimes. He probably does deserve to be canceled.

So why am I not participating in the canceling? Why am I still loving this show so much?

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What are my motivations here, anyway?

There are certain celebrities that I cannot stomach because of their nasty behavior. Mr. Maroon 5, for example, and Marilyn Manson. However, this may be more of a personal distaste issue than a moral issue.

Yes, it was gross that Mr. Maroon 5 cheated on his pregnant wife; but, I still like to listen to Gavin Rossdale, who also cheated on his wife, which makes me think maybe it’s not that I’m so repulsed by cheaters, but rather that Mr. Maroon 5 as a performer has this weaselish and squirmy persona, and sounds like a goose when he sings, while Gavin Rossdale has literally the best singing voice of any male out there, and seems like a cool person otherwise. Similarly, Marilyn Manson: he’s done some disgusting stuff, yes, but that only augments my pre-existing dislike of his music. It’s just not my cup of tea.

And meanwhile, I’m a big fan of Ronnie Radke, who obviously has done some bad shit in the past, for which everyone still wants to cancel him. I will defend him to the death though! He seems like a really smart and good-hearted person who keeps things real (yes, his roast reels are kind of unhinged, but come on, as a rock star it’s his job to be unhinged and entertaining; plus, people shouldn’t start shit online if they don’t want to get roasted, lol, Ronnie never comes for people without being provoked). I’d put him in the “repentant sinners” category mentioned above, because he did his time for the mistakes of his youth, and nowadays he does a lot of good for people and for the music industry at large.

However: this makes me wonder: am I biased here because Gavin Rossdale and Ronnie Radke are both very beautiful people, while Marilyn Manson and Adam Levine are not? I wonder if I’m letting aesthetics color my perception. I know it’s been proven that people tend to perceive attractive people as smarter, better, and more capable, and to perceive ugly people as dumber and worse all-around. I’m pretty sure I’m being fair here, but I have to wonder. It’s like how, if you kill an earthworm, it’s fine, no one cares, but if you kill a butterfly you’re a sick and nasty person and why would you do that. But is the worm really any worse than the butterfly?

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Anyway.

Long story short, I do not know if it’s a moral failing that I’m watching, and really enjoying, The Sandman season two.

Maybe some might argue that it’s actually a good thing, to be able to appreciate the good products of someone who’s otherwise bad. Isn’t that how God sees us, after all? God sees both the bad and the good in us, and loves us regardless of our behavior. And a good, virtuous action always glorifies God, even if the person who did it has also done a lot of bad actions. And producing a beautiful work of art is a good action. Good inspirations don’t come from our corrupt humanity; they come from God, and they teach us about God. So, maybe it’s not bad to be able to enjoy a work of good art created by a bad person.

There are things Good and True and Beautiful in The Sandman, as also in Infinite Jest and other stories by DFW. It would be sad and misguided to just chuck all of these stories in the trash because they came from sources that are corrupted – which we all are, to a certain extent, after all.

So if I had to attempt to make a conclusion here, which I’m not sure I can, I’d say that, well, maybe it’s a matter of balance?: if it’s a really good piece of art, and the artist who made it has any redeeming qualities or humanity left in them – then, perhaps, there’s nothing necessarily morally wrong with being able to enjoy their work (although it’s certainly understandable that some people would prefer not to). But in the case of someone like Hitler, where the artwork is just okay and the evil he committed is so incomprehensibly staggering and cold-blooded and large-scale, then you’d probably have to be a pretty messed-up person to really enjoy his art.

I don’t think you can really call someone a bad person for enjoying the works of Neil Gaiman or Chris Brown – as long as the fan in question isn’t making excuses for the bad behavior of those artists. We can recognize that they did something evil and that the art they made is good. Such is life. Sinful people can still do good things and create good things.
Is it ok to enjoy love stories?

May 13th, 2025

This post is related to my post on music, and also inspired in part by an article I read a couple months ago in Benedictus – actually, it was an excerpt from an old book called “The Ecclesiastical Year,” and it was about the Feast of the Annunciation, a.k.a. Lady Day. If you read Benedictus you might remember the piece I’m talking about.

“Love reciprocally for and from a mother is one of the safest kinds: it contrasts with the dangers of love for a lady sought in marriage passionately, the perils of which are well illustrated by those romantic stories which so pleased readers in the days of chivalry, and in which St. Francis of Assisi, St. Ignatius of Loyola, and St. Theresa found some delight which they afterward repudiated.” Basically, the point of this little excerpt seems to be that the love for and of Our Lady is purer and more perfect than any fleshly love; superior, obviously, to the sort of love told about in love stories. Thus her “knights” on earth are better examples of real chivalry than any of those fictional characters which we enjoy so much.

The author doesn’t completely disparage the whole genre of chivalry/romance, though. “[T]he well-instructed Catholic does not need to be told that he must not starve out all love for family in kindred in his zeal for loving Jesus and Mary.” It’s only the misinformed and ignorant, Fr. Rickaby asserts, who react dramatically and violently to the Church’s advice to be cautious regarding fleshly affections: basically, getting all up in arms, claiming that the Church ‘hates love’ or some such, and veering hard to the opposite extreme: idealizing passionate love, claiming that it’s the greatest thing on earth, “an inspiration to high deeds and noble living, as well as a source of ennobling power.”

Which, this seems to be still extremely true of society today, don’t you think? Those who hate Catholicism love to accuse us of hating love – as if we’re all stuffy and prudish and afraid of pleasure. Which is very false. And it’s definitely true that our culture idealizes romance. I’ve talked in other posts about how weird and unfortunate it is that, as a society, we’re so obsessed with romantic love – it seems like every song on the radio, every popular TV show and movie, glorifies romance as if it’s the one thing to be desired above all else. Which attitude is, I think, pretty unhealthy for young folks to absorb.

I don’t want to be one of the ignorant and misinformed people that Fr. Rickaby is talking about in this excerpt. Obviously, I’m aware that there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a romantic story, as long as that romantic story is healthy, orderly, clean, and appropriately contextualized: always secondary to, and always leading towards, love of God.

But, I guess my question is: is it ever okay to enjoy a secular love story per se? It’s similar to my question about enjoying pop music. Basically, the question underlying both of these seems to be: is it ever okay to deliberately arouse the passions/excite the emotions over something secular?

Of course it’s true that we can safely enjoy some secular things, as long as we don’t get carried away. But what does it mean to get “carried away?” How do we know if we’re getting carried away? And, does reading/watching romance stories, or listening to love songs, fall under the category of safe secular things that we can enjoy in moderation? Or is it always an occasion of sin?

Getting carried away: I imagine “getting carried away” would mean that you’re enjoying a thing so much that you neglect your religious duties, or find yourself tempted to sin. So is it only bad to arouse the passions if it leads you to sin or temptation?

Or, is arousing the passions always bad all the time, simply because you’re getting yourself into a state in which your emotions have taken over and the will/intellect is no longer in charge?

– But then: just because you are arousing the passions for a while, does that always mean that the intellect has been subordinated? Isn’t it possible to enjoy a bit of (clean) titillation for a little while, as long as you are able to put it down and walk away and go about your business when the time for it is done? If you’re addicted to pleasure, that’s a problem, obviously. But if you’re able to decide when and how much to indulge, and stop when you’re done… is that still a problem, I wonder?

And obviously, I’m not talking about pleasure/stimulation that’s sinful. I think (emphasis think, don’t know for sure) that it’s possible to enjoy a love story without lust getting involved.

Let’s take an example. One of my favorite guilty pleasure shows: Outer Banks. (CAUTION: SEASON 3 SPOILERS AHEAD, stop reading here if you haven’t yet watched season three.) Take the scene where JJ rescues Kiara from that detention camp place her parents stuck her in. It’s so romantic. Completely non-sexual, but, still tugs on the heartstrings and makes you feel all mushy inside (at least, if you’re a dork like me, I guess). Similarly, let’s consider another embarrassing guilty pleasure of mine: the song “As Long As You Love Me” by Justin Bieber ft. Big Sean. It’s a totally clean song, nothing sexual in it, not even any innuendos or allusions. And (for me, at least) it gives you the feels in your heart, but is not what I’d call erotic or sexual or anything like that. (I know some would say that the rhythms alone make this song base and sexual, even though the lyrics are pretty innocent.) Works like these ones light up pleasure centers in the heart/chest region, but not so much the loins. So: are this scene and this song safe territory? Or is such romance always lustful because of what it leads to/evokes/suggests? Is it okay to enjoy things like these, in moderation?

I really don’t know, which is why I am writing this post. I’m not trying to make excuses for myself. In the past, back when I had MiTHology 2.0, I used to write all of these awful posts attempting to dissect the teachings of the Catholic Church that bothered me, and to “disprove” them — to prove, for example, why things like non-traditional marriage and female priests should actually be okay. Lol. I am no longer doing that, here. I hope I’m not that arrogant anymore. My priest told me that listening to impure pop/hip-hop music is a sin, so, that’s that; I accept that as the truth. I’m just thinking out loud here, and wrestling with a teaching that I find difficult, and looking for outside opinions if anyone is actually reading this and has an opinion that they care to share. Probably I should work up the nerve to ask an actual priest about all of this, but I have AvPD, and asking people for things is really hard.

No longer making excuses; trying not to, anyway. But it’s awfully tempting. Because sometimes, sinful things look awfully pretty and well-done, like fine art. There are some rap music videos that a part of me thinks are absolute works of art, and certain performers in that genre are undeniably talented at what they do, like, their skills are impressive to listen to! It’s really amazing to me what Nicki Minaj can do with her voice. I’m like, surely it must be okay to just appreciate the talent at work, here? – But, on that note, you could, in theory, have “really well done” porn featuring talented actors and beautiful scenery, I guess, and it would still be porn and therefore despicable. There do exist, I guess, really skilled and agile pole dancers, but pole dancing is still a sinful thing to perform in public. A beautifully-designed dress can be a fine work of art and still really immodest. So, just because something is well done, doesn’t give me an excuse to enjoy it.

Something like porn is obviously always bad. But that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m just wondering how okay it is to enjoy a nice clean love story – specifically, one that’s not necessarily Catholic. I’m aware that there are good Catholic works of literature out there that deal with the sacrament of marriage and with healthy Catholic relationships. Those are surely fine and good to enjoy in moderation. But, something like Outer Banks, while not smutty or graphic like some other shows, is decidedly not Catholic. Pop songs like the Justin Bieber one have nothing to do with God – but are they necessarily evil?

Like I was saying about these two examples: they are certainly sensual, in a way, in that they are pleasing to the senses; but the pleasure centers that they light up are more emotional than sexual. Does that make them better, safer?

Obviously, not all fleshly love is bad. The love that an atheist mom has for her children is still a wonderful and powerful thing. The love between two friends, regardless of whether they are Christian or not, is a good and beautiful thing. The sentiment of love is good and beautiful. As Fr. Rickaby said in this excerpt, it’s not like all Catholics are required to give up their love for their earthly family! That would be ridiculous! Even romance is good and healthy and all, if it’s engaged in without sin.

But enjoying romantic stories? Or even just emotional stories/songs at all, in which the whole gist of the story is a relationship between mortal characters? As someone who loves these, I guess I’m just wondering whether it is ethically permissible to love these.

What do we think, fellow Catholics? Is it safe to cherish ~feelings~ about non-religious things? Is it okay to enjoy a clean romance novel here and there? Are non-sexual romantic pop songs okay? Is it ever okay to intentionally arouse the passions about something secular?
Am I a bad mom if my two-year-old is still in diapers?

May 10th, 2025

(Please note that, in this post, I am not talking about special needs or neurodivergent children. I’m aware that they are in a different situation entirely.)

A few years ago, on Writer Twitter, I met a fellow aspiring author, a really cool lady, and we agreed to try being critique partners, and traded the first few chapters of our novels for each other to mark up (which was an absolutely sickeningly terrifying experience, for me, but I was really trying, at that point, to become a Serious Writer, lol). She was a generation or two my senior, but we wrote in the same genre, and I liked and trusted her. She left me a lot of thoughtful feedback — but the comment that jumped out to me the most was on a part where I mentioned a two-year-old child that was wearing a diaper to bed. My critique partner wrote in red: “A two-year-old in diapers?? Really??!”

At the time, I had a two-year-old and an almost-one-year-old, both still decidedly in diapers. So, I just laughed in confusion, reading that. I figured my critique partner must not have much experience with kids. I seriously had no idea, at that point, that anyone on earth could consider it at all weird for a two-year-old to be wearing diapers!

But then, some time later, I read somewhere that it’s only in recent decades, since the advent of disposable diapers, that parents have delayed potty training until age two/three. According to this source I read, back in the ‘50s and earlier, kids would be potty training around their first birthday – pretty much as soon as they could walk. So, some parents look down on us modern moms, for whom disposable diapers make it easier to be “lazy.”

A confession: I’m a mom of three, soon to be four, and I do not do cloth diapers. Womp womp. I know that that would be the morally superior, crunchy thing to do. And I did do some research about it and seriously considered it – but honestly, I’m overwhelmed with laundry as it is, and just don’t want to.

I’ve potty trained two girls so far, and am working on it with my son, who’s currently two. I’ve found, thus far, that each kid is extremely different. My eldest was unconventional: she was pooping in the potty every single time by the time she was two years old, but despite all my efforts, refused to pee in the potty until after she was three (and we had a real battle about it). But once it clicked, she never looked back, and has had almost zero accidents since. My second was a bit more normal about it. She was agreeable and a good learner, and fully trained by around two-and-a-half, well before three years old — but is more prone to accidents, even now, at almost four. My third (my only boy) currently hates the potty, doesn’t want anything to do with it, and at this point I’m resorting to rewarding him just for sitting on the thing at all. And my methods and process have been pretty much the same with each of them. I’m not super rigid about it; I start introducing the potty before they’re two, but the training process is more gradual than rigorous. It’s just what works for us.

Is this a moral failing? Do I deserve the harsh judgment of these old-school, early-potty-training moms online? I don’t know.

Maybe if I did cloth diapers, it would compel me to potty train my kids earlier. I know a mom from church who cloth diapers, and is currently potty training her fourteen-month-old because she simply can’t stand the laundry anymore – which, I imagine I’d feel the same way! But I also can’t help feeling like maybe she is the superior mom and human for this.

My family’s pediatrician (who is a “normal” pediatrician, not a crunchy/holistic one) doesn’t start talking about potty training until two years old. When I told her my son was still pretty averse to the potty, at his two-year well check, she was totally unconcerned, and said that was still normal, that it was still early. So I guess this is the norm, in 2025. But just because something is the norm in modern times, certainly doesn’t mean it’s the best! If anything, maybe we should be wary of what’s considered normal in these modern times!

So why don’t I just train my kids earlier, if I’m that concerned about it?: well, basically, because it’s easier.

For one, less cleanup. I hate cleaning up pee. The earlier you train, the more accidents you have. Training my eldest when she was three years old was a pain in its own way, but there were relatively few pee spills to mop up.

For two, it’s easier to instruct a slightly older child. With my two-to-three year old, I was able to have a slightly more rational conversation with her about the potty; and, although we butted heads, I found this approach far more intuitive than trying to teach a one-year-old about it. Maybe this is just because of my personality type. Being ILI in socionics/INTJ in MBTI/LVEF in psychosophy, I have a “logical” way of thinking, and so it makes the most sense for me to solve problems and approach obstacles that way.

So yeah. It’s easier, for me, to potty train at a slightly older age, around two and a half. Parenting is hard, as we all know. I do try to make it easier where I can. Don’t we all?

I do worry that I’m a bad or lazy mom or human for trying to make my life easier this way. Am I doing my kids a disservice somehow? Would they be more confident, and get off to a more self-assured start in life, if I had them out of diapers by age two? I don’t know. Some might say yes. But on the other hand, I worry that the struggle of going through potty training at a very early age might disrupt the peace in our house and end up affecting them negatively. Keeping stress low and moods positive as much as possible is not a luxury, but a necessity, I’ve found, when parenting.

There’s also the argument that all those disposable diapers are wasteful and terrible for the environment. Although, the older I get, the less certain I am that the environment is as big of a concern as we’re made to believe it is (I don’t know, though; I’m on the fence, still) – and if it is, I know for absolute certain that there’s nothing a little person like me can do about it, that no matter how many reusable grocery bags and cloth diapers I use, no matter how much I inconvenience myself, it won’t matter a whit as long as all these big corporations, the air travel industry and meat production industry – the ones who actually have it in their power to change things – continue to not change. So, I’m honestly not super swayed by the whole “waste” argument.

And I haven’t read up a lot on the psychology of potty training earlier vs. later, but, I’m not aware of any compelling evidence that a child is happier or healthier if they potty train earlier. Am I wrong?

I guess in the ’50s and earlier, they were just more used to doing more cleanup. Nowadays, we don’t have to worry that much about that. Certain things are just easier now, because of advancements like disposable diapers. We also have things like washers, dryers, refrigerators, microwaves, all of which make life easier now than it used to be. Is it a moral failing to utilize such things? I can’t imagine that it is.

Like I said, I’m just trying to make our lives easier, because when life is going smoothly, I’m a more patient, happier, and successful mom. Maybe if I were a tougher and stronger type of individual, I’d do cloth diapers instead of disposables. Maybe if I were more resilient and patient in general, I’d potty train at one instead of two.

Maybe these are moral failings. I like to think it’s more like they are imperfections, or even maybe just morally neutral characteristics, of mine that I’m aware of and doing my best to work with, to make sure my family is as happy and mentally healthy as possible. Being flexible and low-stress about the potty is what’s been working for us.

But if you have a really strong argument against potty training at two-three, or in favor of doing it earlier, my inbox is open.
Are homesteaders morally superior to the rest of us?

May 8th, 2025

ETA: this is part one of two. For the follow-up, in which I more or less find the answer to this question, please see part two.

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There’s a big movement these days, especially among Catholics, to get away from the city/suburbs, buy some land in the countryside, buy some animals, plant some seeds, and become self-sufficient. I get it. Self-sufficiency is cool. In the event of a societal collapse, you’ll be prepared. You’re safe from all the weird toxic ingredients and contamination incidents that affect grocery store products. Additionally, living off the land is a very spiritual thing. You’re living in accord with the rhythms of nature; the seasons, the weather, sunrise and sunset. You’re connected to your food source in a way that grocery shoppers are not. City life is comparatively removed from God’s creation; God designed us to live off the land, didn’t He? For homesteaders, life is probably, in a lot of ways, more “real.”

But does that make them better than the rest of us, who live in the city and buy all our food at the grocery store?

I think in some cases, maybe?

Let’s consider two individuals, we’ll call them Fran and Marge:

Fran is a devout Catholic and a faithful wife. She tithes on her whole income, never misses Mass on Sundays or holy days, says her rosary daily, goes to confession weekly, and reads the lives of the saints. Fran and her family live in a nice suburban housing development with HOA fees. They don’t have room for animals or a garden (except a few potted flowers and ornamental shrubs), plus Fran doesn’t like getting her hands dirty. She’s an elegant lady. So they do all their shopping at their local grocery store, or sometimes the farmer’s market if it’s convenient, which it’s not, because Fran has ten kids, whom she homeschools, and also volunteers for Meals on Wheels and the local free pregnancy center, and in her free time enjoys committee work and Well Read Mom book club meetings with her church friends. She also works out daily at the local YMCA, where she takes aerobics classes.

Next let’s look at Marge. Marge is a devout Catholic and a faithful wife. She tithes on her whole income, never misses Mass on Sundays or holy days, says her rosary daily, goes to confession weekly, and reads the lives of the saints. Marge and her family live on fifty acres, off a dirt road an hour outside of town. They have chickens, a dairy cow, a couple of goats, and a pig that they’re planning on slaughtering a few months from now to stock up their freezer. Marge makes her own yogurt and cheese from their own cow’s milk. They also have a huge garden, and Marge makes everything from scratch, canning and preserving all her own produce. It’s a full time job, between that and homeschooling her ten kids, but for Marge it’s very spiritually fulfilling. She doesn’t have time for volunteering outside the home, but for Marge, her home is her ministry.

Who is the “better” Catholic? If all other factors are the same, and they’re both very prayerful and striving to remain always in the state of grace, then is Marge better because she homesteads? But what about all of Fran’s hard work? I don’t know if we can say that Marge is doing better – can we? As a wife and mother, shouldn’t her home be her foremost ministry, before any committees or volunteer work?

Let’s consider a third individual though. We’ll call her Lois. Lois is a devout Catholic and a faithful wife. She tithes on her whole income, never misses Mass on Sundays or holy days, says her rosary daily, goes to confession weekly, and reads the lives of the saints. But in her free time, Lois is kind of a nerd. She enjoys watching TV and movies (but avoids anything racy or sinful), playing computer games (only clean ones), reading novels, writing stories, drawing, and knitting or crocheting. Committee work is not for her. She is an introvert and enjoys sitting quietly and looking out the window. She errs on the lazy side, but is doing her best; she’s a little chubby, but not obese or anything. Her suburban home has a decent-sized yard, but Lois has no interest in gardening or livestock. It’s just not how she cares to spend her time. For her, serving God means doing her very best at keeping her little house and homeschooling her ten kids, creating beautiful things, and just trying to be a good Christian witness to everyone whom she meets along her way as she goes about her little life. Including at the grocery store where she shops.

Is Marge a better Catholic than Lois? What about Fran, where does she fall in there? Is Marge the most Catholicest of all of them? How would we “rank” these three?

I guess we can’t really rank them. Only God can do that. But we can at least make an educated guess as to what kind of lifestyle we think is the holiest, can’t we?

But then, who are we to know how God speaks to Lois, or to Fran, or to Marge? God built each of these women and knows their interior life and workings and struggles in ways that no human ever can. Only He can really judge them.

But we still have moral compasses to steer us towards the best ways to live. What do we think? Should Lois and Fran abandon all their other works and hobbies, sell their homes, and buy some land and some livestock? Should Fran make herself miserable by getting her pretty fingernails dirty even though she hates it? Should Lois give up her crochet and computer games and instead raise chickens?

If I had to guess, I’d say there’s no moral obligation for them to do that. I think homesteading is one of those things, like exercise, or reading old books, that’s very good for you indeed, but not a crime not to do.

Or is it? I’m genuinely not sure.

I know one thing for sure: not all of us have the luxury of being able to move out to the country. Land and livestock are expensive. There’s a stereotype that farming is such a humble and simple way to live; but it takes a lot of money to be able to live that humbly and simply! Maybe back in the day, farmers were poor folks, but these days, it’s kind of the opposite: poor folks live in cities and surrounding areas, now, and rich folks are the ones privileged enough to live off their own land. And yeah, sure, I bet it does save money, living that way, long-term (canning your own goods, slaughtering your own meat, harvesting your own produce…), but, in order to save that money, you have to have a lot of money upfront to buy the animals, the supplies, and the property! Someone living paycheck to paycheck simply cannot do that.

But, a morally perfect person would make good financial decisions, wouldn’t they? A morally perfect person probably wouldn’t become poor enough to need to live paycheck-to-paycheck, because they would work hard, be careful to avoid unpayable debt, and their upstanding moral qualities would pay off in their lives, and surely anyone who’s not a complete screw-up, morally (because financial management is a moral matter) can afford a half acre or so, somewhere, can’t they? (I’m not talking about situations where people become poor through no fault of their own, such as medical debt from an illness or injury. Clearly such a person is not at fault for not being able to afford their own farm.)

But those of us who could have done better in the past, and are now dealing with the after-effects of our previous less-than-perfect financial decisions (as a millennial, I’m thinking specifically about student debt); is our inability to homestead a moral failing? Is our grocery shopping a symptom of our sinfulness? Should we be ashamed of it?

What about those of us who could, in theory, start a little garden or farm, but just don’t want to? What if, like Fran, we just hate getting sweaty and getting our hands dirty, and don’t particularly like farm animals? Or, like Lois, we’d rather do other hobbies? Should we just forget about our personal preferences/desires for comfort and pleasure, and get out there and do it anyway? – Is this what a very holy person, someone completely detached from all desires for comfort and pleasure, would do? I’m not such a person, so I honestly do not know.

I feel like Marge and Fran are “better” Catholics than Lois. But that’s just a feeling, and I’m not sure if it’s in any way correct. Personally, I have the most in common with Lois, except I’m not as content or confident as she is; I’m always wondering, fretfully, if I should be more of a Marge, or at least a Fran. Although I’ve tried being more Fran-like in the past, and I suck at it. My attempts to be more Marge-like never stick, either. I just can’t wait to get inside and take a damn shower. Should I just accept that I’m a Lois, or should I push back against my natural inclinations and try to be more like Marge, or even Fran?

So, I don’t really have a way to conclude this little post, because I honestly do not know. All I know for sure is, when I’m talking to folks from my parish who tell me they homestead and make their own everything, I feel like a shitty Catholic compared to them.

Is it okay to be different? Is it okay to live in the city, or to want to? At this point, I can’t help feeling like Marge is the “best” and most Catholicest Catholic, followed by Fran, and then Lois; but that might just be my emotional perception, influenced by my poor self-image. I feel like perhaps if Lois and Fran become more spiritually advanced, they will develop a true desire to homestead, because it will seem more in keeping with the way God designed humans to live, and they will begin to love God’s will above all other things – right?

Or, maybe that’s now how it happens. Maybe you can be a saint and live happily in the city and shop for groceries. I truly don’t know, at this point. I’d love to hear some other people’s opinions on this.