MiTHology (4.0)

Having ocs is a trip because

September 22nd, 2026

recently my kids have invented this new little game, during which my 6 yr old has been calling one or the other of her siblings by the name of my longtime fav oc (why? Why, I begged her to explain, where did she hear that name?? — apparently it’s also the name of a v minor character in PAW Patrol, which, Praise God they haven’t even watched that show in many months, so idk why she suddenly remembered this v minor character out of the blue & decided to appropriate his name for their little game, but whatever) & so, out of nowhere, at any given moment throughout the day, I’ll be going about my business & suddenly hear her exclaim “[OC’S NAME]!!” (& mind you it’s not a very common name at all, you don’t normally hear it like ever) and

⁉️⁉️

it feels like a glitch in the matrix somehow & I just stop what I’m doing and 😮😮😮
Can first trimester moms get some help?

September 21st, 2026

TW: mentions of: the Lindsay Clancy case, pregnancy loss, PPD/PPA/etc.

Currently, there’s a lot of talk about how the government can help young American families. If we’re taking suggestions, I’d like to throw my own little idea into the conversation.

This national discussion is largely centered around the Lindsay Clancy case: now Massachusetts wants the government to send nurses into families’ homes to check up on postpartum mothers, to make sure they’re not becoming homicidal. Now, I don’t care what anyone says, Lindsay Clancy is guilty as the devil himself, and absolutely deserves the death penalty — if she’s innocent “by reason of insanity,” then so is every murderer ever, and why do we punish anyone at all? — but, even so, I do think having the option of a free postpartum in-home check-up could be helpful for a lot of us.

Meanwhile, a separate branch of this “how to help families” discussion is about this bill that’s apparently being discussed, about the federal government paying families with a stay-at-home parent $9,000 per child per year. To pay stay-at-home parents for the work they do, I guess, and to incentivize traditional family structure, and maybe to hopefully do something about the falling birth rates so humanity doesn’t die out. Hey, I’m all for this! As I told my husband: I’m no card-carrying Republican by any means, but if President Trump actually makes this happen, and manages to send my family an extra thirty-six thousand dollars cash per year, I will officially become Trump’s Number One Bitch — I’m talking red MAGA hat, MAGA flag flying proudly on the lawn, Trump’s portrait framed on my living room wall, you name it. Do I think this is going to happen, realistically? Do I think we families will ever see this money? Absolutely not. (But if we do, I’ll be sure and post photos here of the new red regalia, so you know that I’m a woman of my word.)

But! Aside from mandating nurses in our homes or throwing cash at us, I have another idea I’d like to propose.

Everyone always talks about postpartum, and how hard postpartum is. As they should. It is a wild time. Some moms suffer horribly. However: no one ever talks about what is, for many of us, a zillion times harder in every way, and that is: the first trimester.

For me, and many others like me, the first trimester is immeasurably worse than the third trimester, birth, or postpartum. We all know birth and its aftermath are hard — but why does no one talk about how hard early pregnancy is?! And everyone who’s never had a kid always thinks “oh, the third trimester must be the hardest, because you’re so huge!”, but, for many of us, including me, trimester three is an absolute cake walk, a sunny day at the beach, compared to the first.

“I don’t buy it, Mith! Why is the first trimester, when you’re not even showing yet, so much harder than being a ginormous blimp, or having a screaming newborn that never sleeps?” I’m glad you asked! Because I truly do not understand why the intense suffering that women undergo during weeks 4 through 14 is not common knowledge!

For one, the physical suffering. It’s not about the size of the baby. It’s about those pesky hormones. The pregnancy hormome hcg causes 80+% of us to suffer from intense nausea and fatigue. Imagine the worst stomach bug of your life. Imagine the most exhausted you’ve ever been — that heavy sensation where you could drop down and fall asleep on the kitchen floor. Imagine you’re hungry but the mere thought of any food at all is as repulsive to you as actual excrement. Now imagine this for ten weeks.

Now imagine that you are expected to function as usual and get all your typical work done during those ten weeks!

It’s criminal, is what it is. It’s ludicrous. (Actually, it’s the fault of feminism: we women demanded so hard to be treated exactly like men in every way, that, lo and behold, we got what we asked for, and are now expected to function in society exactly as do men, who never have to endure pregnancy or periods. It’s BS!)

Not just physically, but psychologically, the first trimester is the worst kind of hell. The vast majority of all pregnancy losses occur in the first trimester, so anxiety levels are skyrocketing. Most health care providers won’t see you for your first visit until 8-12 weeks, so you’re living in a state of uncertainty. You know nothing about the health of your baby yet. You can’t feel their kicks. It’s entirely possible they’ve already died and you have no way of knowing (a “missed miscarriage”). And don’t even get me started on how society views miscarriage and treats women who experience it!

And, worst of all, because you’re not showing yet and there’s a large probability that your baby won’t make it, you almost certainly aren’t telling anyone about your pregnancy yet (indeed, it’s even kind of a taboo to announce the news before 12 weeks) — which means, you have no excuse, in the eyes of everyone around you, to be feeling so sick and functioning so poorly and suffering from such crippling anxiety and demotivation. So you just have to “man up” and fake it, or, if you have a job, suffer the consequences. Again: criminal. Ludicrous.

And people don’t talk about this. It’s only in very recent years that scientists have begun researching what actually causes pregnancy nausea and how we might treat it. Until now, no one has really cared. Doctors have all just kind of shrugged and gone “guess it’s got something to do with all that hcg!”

People don’t talk about it, people don’t research it, people don’t care. The first trimester is a silent plague. Any woman around you could be suffering from it and you wouldn’t know. And everyone just glazes over all of this going “wow, moms are so tough! Moms sure are strong! Be sure and buy yours a nice bouquet on Mother’s Day!” — no! It’s not that we’re strong and tough. Some of us are wimps! We just survive it because we have no other choice!

Once the placenta “takes over” hormone production near the end of the first trimester, and levels stabilize, most of us start to feel normal. Trimester two is a breeze, for most of us; the third, in my experience, has some little annoyances, like heartburn and constantly needing to pee, but my energy levels, mood, and feelings about food are as normal as ever, in late pregnancy. Labor and delivery — no joke, I’d rather do it daily, unmedicated, every day for ten weeks than survive trimester one.

Postpartum: I’m not going to mitigate the struggle. For some of us, this is the hardest time. Which is why I do think the option of an in-home nurse is not a bad idea. However, not all of us would need one. For some of us, postpartum is chaotic and tiring and messy, but mainly joyful. For some of us, we’d really appreciate more help during — that’s right, you guessed it! — the first trimester.

Which is why I’m making this little proposal. Give us moms some in-home assistance when we actually need it the most. Imo, if they really want to incentivize family life and take care of mothers, they need to start when our suffering is the greatest.

I think it’d be great if any pregnant mom — and I won’t even limit it to the first trimester, because some moms suffer from HG and have debilitating nausea the whole forty weeks, God help them — were eligible for in-home aides to come and help them out while they’re sick.

A nanny, basically, or a maid (I don’t know what the technical term would be, I’ve never been rich enough to afford hired help of any kind!): someone to come in and cook, clean, run errands, mind the children if necessary, and just be a second set of hands. Obviously, this helper would be optional, and would be someone safe and certified and vetted in all areas and all that. Think of the jobs this would create!

If such an option existed, I for one would snatch it up in a heartbeat.

Because the toll that the first trimester can take on domestic life should not be underestimated. Not anymore.

In this age of “awareness,” when we’re “aware” of every condition under the sun, when we’re so extremely “aware” of postpartum mental illness that we’re even willing to forgive an evil murderer — why are we not more “aware” of the first trimester? It’s stupid that moms are expected to just power through. Thanks for listening to my little rant.
#12: “The Younger Wife” by Sally Hepworth

September 19th, 2026

It’s been a while — almost three months — since I posted about a book! Because, I’m sad to admit, it’s been that long since I read a book. (A novel, that is; of course I’m always picking at various works of nonfiction, mostly spiritual and/or parenting-related.)

The problem is, it happened again: I lost the battle. My black/white thinking got the best of me. I got eleven books in and started to think: “hmm, now that I’m back in the habit of reading books, I should really try to read more High Quality Literature. I should stop reading just-for-fun junk!”

… which inevitably leads to these episodes of paralysis at the library, as I try to decide which books in their limited selection are Worth My Time and Good For Me, but also manageable enough for me to actually read (and hopefully enjoy), with my weak intellect and limited free time; and, inevitably, I end up saying “forget it” and leaving empty-handed, figuring if I can’t read Good Books, then I just won’t read at all.

Which leads to me, bookless, in my free time just mindlessly scrolling and re-scrolling the same three or four dried-up apps on my phone, when I would otherwise be reading a book. Which is arguably objectively worse than reading even a pretty lowbrow novel.

As soon as I became aware of this, that the pattern was repeating and it was pulling me away from novels once again, I knew just where I had to turn: to the hero author, the woman who singlehandedly rescued me from a years-long reading slump not too long ago: the brilliant Sally Hepworth! She’s saved me once, I knew she could do it again. I needed one of her novels in my hands, stat!

As you may remember, I binged a ton of her books at the beginning of my effort to Rediscover Reading this past spring (see: this post, this post). So, as I approached the H shelf in the adult fiction section of the library, I was really worried that I’d find that I’d already read every single book of hers that my library had. Thanks be to God, there was exactly one (1) Sally Hepworth book there that I hadn’t yet gotten around to reading during my prior binge. And this was it:

Happy to report that she’s done it again! I know I say this about pretty much every single one of SH’s books, but, I really think this might be one of my favorites of hers. Something about the interactions between the two sisters made it seem especially real and poignant. Maybe because, in some ways, their family dynamic is not unlike my own, and I saw a lot of myself and my sister in Rachel and Tully.

Plus, this book managed to keep me guessing right up until the end — maybe the villain isn’t as villainous as we think? Maybe she really is projecting her fears… — but still provided enough evidence to make the truth apparent, and then gave a clear, satisfying answer at the end, completely dodging the bullet of leaving too much up to the imagination. Very smoothly done.

I also of course appreciated the compassionate portrayal of addiction in both sisters. Especially Rachel. I like that even as a fat girl she’s still described as the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen, and is still fawned over by men. Tbf though, she’s described as voluptuous and Kardashianesque with a soft squishy tummy, which is not exactly “fat,” by American standards, and is in fact an arguably ideal body type; she’s not supposed to be “apple”-shaped or grossly obese, so, I guess in a way she’s like an idealized, romanticized picture of a fat girl, and hardly a model of fat representation at all… but still, it’s progress. I still appreciate an author showing us that thickness does not necessarily equal ugliness. I also like that weight loss was never part of Rachel’s recovery; it was strictly about her relationship with food, and how it affected her life.

Speaking of, Darcy is probably my favorite Sally Hepworth love interest so far, maybe because, with his silly sense of humor and his unconditional, unquestioning acceptance of Rachel’s food issues, plus the way he pursued her so persistently, he reminds me of my own husband.

But my favorite thing about this book! Perhaps my favorite thing, the thing that made me applaud the loudest, was the theme of wealth vs. poverty, and the way it’s shown multiple times how it’s so much easier for wealthy people to live virtuously. Tully learns this lesson the hard way, quickly realizing that being ultra-choosy about her children’s diet was a privilege reserved for those with a lot of extra time and money. Similarly, there’s a scene where Heather reflects on how rich folks are able to be kind and generous to their hired moving crew, because they can afford to: something breaks in transit? Oh well, we’ll just buy another! And then buying the crew a round of drinks when the job’s done. A generous gesture that no poor family could afford. Heather gets to see it from both sides. I wish more wealthy folks were so conscious of their privilege and less judgmental of those who can’t afford to live such outwardly-beautiful lives.

On that same note though, I am somewhat disappointed by the implication that poverty necessarily = dysfunction, crime, abuse, addiction, and misery. I know the two often go hand in hand, sadly, but it’s not necessary, and part of our society’s hatred of poverty comes from this idea that poor always = evil and suffering. Stories like this really perpetuate the idea that a family can’t be happy, healthy, loving, functional, and also poor. I’d like to see more portrayals of happy and peaceful lower-income families. To be fair again, though, SH definitely also showed that a family can also be rich and dysfunctional, miserable, and evil. And actually, come to think of it, maybe this is exactly what SH was doing at the end, with Tully and Sonny’s new happier, simplified life in a smaller house.

Speaking of Sonny, one last complaint. Why was he so two-dimensional? He was the least fleshed-out of all the major characters. I feel like Tully’s husband deserved to be more complete of a character. I get that he wasn’t massively important or anything, but, whenever SH mentioned Sonny, it was like a generic black-and-white stick figure entered the scene in my head, among all these other vivid, human characters. Oh well.

I always like to find some nitpicky little issues to hop on my soapbox about, but this was overall, as always, a 10/10 reading experience from Sally Hepworth. I can’t wait to get my hands on her next book.
My Husband: A Character Thumbnail

September 17th, 2026

My husband, who reads this blog, has semi-playfully suggested that I write a post about him; and so, because I try (sometimes) (only when it serves me) to be a good and obedient little wifey, here we go.

Where to start.

My husband recently turned 41, and for his birthday, my parents mailed him one of those humorous little Hallmark greeting cards, which read, on the front: “There’s Everyone Else… And Then There’s You.”

The messages in Hallmark cards are, naturally, designed to be vague and generalized enough that they can apply to whomever you want. But this one… I was impressed. This one actually is oddly, specifically accurate about my husband. There truly are two categories of humans in the world: everyone else, and then there’s him.

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Recently he asked me to tell him how I would describe him to someone who didn’t know him — like, a mini character thumbnail, like if I were telling a new friend about him (as if I had “friends”, lol).

Thing is, unlike him, I positively suck at coming up with any kind of impromptu speech when put on the spot. I need to sit and stare at a blank Word document and turn words over and over in my head, kneading them like bread dough. So when he asked me, I was just like: “ummmm…..” and trailed off.

Now that I’ve had some time to knead:

The first word that I have chosen to describe him will probably seem anticlimactic, after such a prelude. When you first meet my husband, your initial impression will probably be that he is: Nice.

By that, I mean: he exudes warmth and approachability. He seems at once sincerely, deeply interested in who you are, and yet not overly serious, able to lighten up any moment with a quick, silly little joke. He makes even the most socially-awkward, phobic, neurotic, uncomfortable, neurodivergent types of people feel at ease in his company. Women, especially, feel safe around him and enjoy being his friend. He draws us like flies. We can’t stay away. He’s someone you want to open up to, to share your deepest problems with. It’s a quality that has made him both an excellent social worker for troubled children (his previous job) and an extremely good salesman (his current job). On the phone, he’s always able to get representatives to do things for him, to bend rules or give answers or find surprise discounts, whereas when I or any normal person try we’re met with an impersonal brick wall.

Even his physical appearance exudes “warm and approachable.” He is on the tall, built side without being overly, intimidatingly tall or beefy; he has soft, thick hair in a humble shade of dusty golden-brown, and eyes that are grayish blue but somehow a warm, comfy shade of grayish blue, like well-worn denim. He has an easy smile that comes off as natural even when it’s forced. And his speaking voice — it is one of his most attractive features, everyone says so. It is warm and deep. Listening to him talk is very, very nice.

But when you think you know him, you really have just barely scratched the surface.

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For a long time, I thought: he is too nice.

When we met I was 23 and he 27. It was at a Barnes & Noble coffee shop. I was in my last year of art school: a chaotic, flighty, unsettled, indecisive, alcoholic bulimic disaster of a person, but at least I was pretty in those days, very skinny and fair-skinned and young, with striking eyes that I accentuated with makeup, and thick curly hair that I’d dyed auburn. Between this appearance and the facade I put on (with the aid of a few pre-date drinks) of being “intelligent” and “literary” and “artistic” and “a little quirky,” I guess I was able to successfully lure him in, like a mirage. (Now that he’s seen the real me, seen that I’m just a lumpy, grumpy matron with thinning hair and a bad attitude and bad taste in most things, I’m still waiting for him to run screaming (we’ve been married almost 10 years and have four kids).)

Anyway, so after we first met, he pursued me persistently, and continued expressing interest in a relationship. But, even though I’d been initially charmed by his eloquence, intelligence, passion for medieval history, and blue eyes that reminded me of Cillian Murphy (my then celebrity crush), not to mention our eerie discovery that we shared a birthday, and the even eerier fact that he managed to guess my middle name on the first try, with no hints (I should have known right then!)… it wasn’t long before I managed to convince myself: no, he is too nice for me, way too nice. He is what they call a good man: a well-adjusted, button-down-and-khakis-wearing type of person with zero tattoos and good manners and a good job and no addictions to speak of. I am too evil and rotten. It will never work. No, I was only interested in gross, substance-abusing, trashy, unstable men who didn’t respect me nor even like me back — that was my type, back then. So, I started trying to cold-shoulder the nice guy from Barnes & Noble.

My husband is like a fairytale knight, though. His story is literally the fantasy that everyone who’s ever been friendzoned by a love interest daydreams about living in: “Maybe if I just don’t give up… Maybe if I try one more time, even though they keep rejecting me… maybe they’ll come around…”

See, the world, and common sense, will tell you to give up and move on; they’ve made it clear they don’t want you, so lay off!

Not my husband. Despite his very high degree of emotional intelligence, social sensitivity, and keen ability to demonstrate tact, he is also able, at times, to boldly and shamelessly disregard social conventions. He didn’t take no for an answer. He did the impossible, and managed to get close to me, me, who repels any kind of closeness like it’s my twin magnetic pole. I fully believe that he could actually teach a 400-level college course on How To Get The Girl.

Of course, part of his success in acquiring me may also have been due to the fact that, between the ages of 23 and 26, I began experimenting with religion and sobriety — basically, began to finally desire Goodness in my life, began to want to not be evil and rotten anymore, and began to see that perhaps a Nice Guy, a mentally-stable guy who thought I was worth fighting for for three straight years, against all odds, might actually be the best kind of guy.

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But here’s the thing though. Even then, I didn’t really know him yet. Yes he’s very nice — but that’s only the first layer.

He’s very good at being a salesman, at being a counselor, at being Nice — but at the end of the day, he just wants to be alone. To “decompress,” as he calls it. For him, that usually looks like: indulging in fantasy/sci-fi/horror media (a genre that provided an escape, for him, as a precocious, insatiably-curious child in a highly unstable household) and black tea by the bucketful, sweetened with an imported creamed honey that is his one and only real indulgence — he doesn’t really get excited about “stuff,” generally, and doesn’t desire much at all in the way of material goods, nor even really seem that focused on the material realm at all. He’s had the same basic wardrobe since before I knew him, has a terrible sense of direction, and isn’t too disturbed by messiness or ugliness or disarray.

Speaking of messy, the downstairs den of our house is his “man cave,” and that’s his happy place, where he has his big TV and his big gaming computer with all those little blinking lights and his mountains of RPG rule books and rows of old fantasy paperbacks. Turns out, he does have some addictions after all (doesn’t everyone!), which I didn’t realize when we first met. However, caffeine and nerdy films/games are still much better, healthier addictions to live with than some others I’d encountered on the dating scene.

So that’s the first secret layer beneath the surface: he’s a major introvert, despite the mask of extroversion, the ease with which he can navigate even the stickiest social situation. He needs to be alone, needs ample time to play around, to wander aimlessly through imaginary worlds, discovering new little gems to amuse himself with.

And his imagination can be a really dark, strange place, too. His train of thought goes tearing through some wild places; I often can’t believe the types of random, unhinged things he thinks up, the stories he makes ups on a dime. As a creator of fiction, he can come up with some horrifying shit. And when he starts talking about his worldview, he is actually more cynical, more bitter, than you initially thought: kind of a world-wise romantic, an idealist who has resigned himself to coping with reality. He’s not really just a ray of sunshine. He actually is capable of bitterness and anger and grouchiness and intense dislike.

But (and this is where it gets even more complex; this is one of his best and most perplexing qualities), he’s also intensely, senselessly loyal and devoted to those he calls his friends.

I guess it’s the same mysterious quality that enabled him to pursue me relentlessly without being deterred by my flakiness — the same quality that enabled him to survive being a social worker to kids who were at times cruel and even violent, who were often tragically past the point of saving; this same selfless boldness has empowered him to maintain close, long-term friendships with the individuals that he values. Even when those individuals make it difficult, to the point where certainly I, and probably most normal people, would give up on them. If he values you, he will never let you just float away. Sometimes it strikes me as so ridiculous and impractical. So humiliating, even! I admit I struggle to understand this capacity of is, but it fascinates me to no end.

It makes him very steady. Steady — that’s the other main adjective I’d use to describe him, along with Nice; even though he’s an IEE in socionics, a personality type characterized by its squirrelish distractability, by perpetually chasing after the next shiny fascinating little gem — my husband is, at his core, a steady and firm rock of a person. In the 11+ years that we’ve been together, I’ve changed drastically — reinvented myself, become a whole new person, with new rules of life, several times over. But he’s stayed, essentially, the same. Just always himself. It is very relaxing to exist around.

Whenever he appears in my dreams, it is invariably as a calm and steady unshakeable presence in an otherwise tumultuous and terrifying world. He keeps me grounded, I suppose. Without him I’d undoubtedly have floated off into the ether long ago.

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It will come as no surprise to you that, socially, he is our arms, legs, and face, as a couple. Oftentimes when we’re together, talking with someone new (i.e., he’s doing the talking and I’m standing there nodding twitchily and trying to figure out what to do with my face), he’ll make some comment or joke that makes my social fear flare up white-hot behind my eyes, like “stop!, what are you doing??! So inappropriate! You can’t just say that to them! We don’t know them that well!”, but, lo and behold, the other person is now laughing jovially, matching his freak, and suddenly they see my husband as their “buddy.” I cannot fathom. He is able to read people somehow. It is a superpower.

It is both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes he gets tired of people trauma-dumping on him, treating him as a free therapist. At the day’s end, he will gripe and fume to me about this — but the thing is, the reason it bothers him so much is because he’s actually extremely empathetic. He actually does care very deeply about people and their problems. So much that it wears him out, mentally and physically — makes him feel very “compressed.” It must be exhausting to be that caring of a person.

That’s the secret layer beneath the secret layer beneath the surface. When I have, on occasion, pointed this out to him, that he doesn’t actually “hate people” as he likes to claim, he will (jokingly) mutter a string of profanities into his comically-oversized mug of tea, eyes narrowed. Because he knows it is true.

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That is why, even though he’s less dogmatic than I, less philosophical, less concerned about the technical ethical consistency of this that or the other theoretical position — he’s actually a better person than I am, at heart. I have to study goodness like it’s a science and then try to measure it out like an exact recipe; but he has an instinct for goodness. The thing is, he really is that nice. “Nice” may seem trite and useless, to some, but imo genuine, basic, innate niceness is a very rare treasure to find in a person. It is true, there’s everyone else, and then there’s him.

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How We’re Homeschooling This Year (Kindergarten & 1st Grade – Classical/CM/Eclectic)

September 14th, 2026

Let’s switch gears now for a minute. I’m going to yap, for a change, not about my weird ideas, convoluted inner musings, and little fascinations, but about my actual, physical IRL everyday life; namely: homeschooling.

(This turned into a long post! Click here to skip the rambly background and jump straight to the actual curriculum.)

A bit of background: I had no idea what I was getting into, when I decided to homeschool. I just knew I didn’t want my kids getting shot (we’re in the USA) or being force-fed any of the propaganda and nonsense that’s taught in public schools today, or being exposed to the myriad soul-rotting evils that spread there. A private Catholic school wasn’t an option, financially, so: homeschooling it was.

I’m not a natural teacher, though, and before having kids, never really cared to learn about pedagogy or any kind of philosophy of education; it’s just not something that interested me; I didn’t honestly even really know that such schools of thought existed. Learning was learning, I figured, and the more rigorous the better, because smart children (which all of mine are) ought to be academically challenged.

My eldest child has always been highly advanced for her age. (She’s also my healthiest kid — which is really funny, because she’s the only one of my kids who was strictly formula-fed practically from birth, and everyone says breastfed kids do so much better in everything; but I digress, that’s a post for another day.) At 4.5, she was already reading, counting beyond 20, trying to write letters, drawing people with features, stuff like that. She has always had this ability to focus very intensely, enjoyed sitting at the table working on things, and has never been what I’d call “hyperactive.”

Furthermore, her dad, my husband, started kindergarten when he was four, and says that it worked out great for him, he never felt behind even though he was always the youngest in his class; meanwhile, I was the opposite, I wasn’t placed in kindergarten until I was a week shy of six, so I was forever the oldest kid in my grade, which I always hated. For all of these reasons, my gut told me that my child was ready to start school at 4.5 rather than 5.5.

I’ve since realized that this is a cardinal sin, in the world of traditional/Christian homeschooling; formal school really shouldn’t be started until age seven, they say. Oops! I had no idea! I hadn’t delved into the whole vast online world of homeschooling theory, yet. I just assumed it was best to give intellectual stimulation, to challenge her. Like I said, I never really read up on pedagogy. I just thought school was school, and therefore, when the time came, went and purchased a “curriculum in a box” from a reputable, accredited Catholic institution — namely, Seton. Someone on a mommy forum introduced me to its full enrollment home education program, I scoped it out, and it sounded legit. Sold!

Catholic moms!, if you’ve used Seton, you know that its full enrollment is pretty intense! It’s great material, but it’s a heck of a lot of bookwork, for a kindergartener! We had a weird time with Seton’s kindergarten curriculum. It was, at once, way too easy for my daughter (like I said, she could already read and understand basic math concepts, but Seton had her studying the ABCs and 1-2-3s), and way too advanced (even though she was great at focusing on things that interested her, she struggled with being told to sit and complete pages of a workbook). So, we didn’t exactly finish that curriculum. We just ended up kind of using the materials at our own pace, finishing some early, others late.

The following year we used Seton full enrollment again, but this year I traded some of the Grade 1 subjects for Grade 2, because by now my daughter was reading full books to herself independently, all alone, and had no need to waste time with Phonics 1. We loved using the beautiful vintage second grade readers (These Are Our Neighbors and This Is Our Parish, etc.), however the paperwork load was still a lot for my child, and by now her stubborn independent streak was full-blown, so after some episodes of head-butting, I ended up once again backing off from the rigorous lesson plans and just gently using the materials in a way that worked for us.

I had figured out, by the end of that school year, that Seton full enrollment wasn’t a good fit for us at this stage.

I figured I’d just switch it up a bit. I did some reading about other programs, which led me to Mother of Divine Grace, which led me to Laura Berquist’s Designing Your Own Classical Curriculum, which led me to researching classical education in general… meanwhile, some other moms at my parish exposed me to Charlotte Mason and a program called The Children’s Tradition, which as far as I can tell, implements elements of both Classical and CM in a very organic, integrated, “whole-person” style, which appealed to me but was so different from what I was currently doing that, as of this past spring, I didn’t feel ready to dive in and commit quite yet. I needed to do some more research first. (I’ve been listening to the TCT podcast a lot, and it’s super legit! I’m leaning towards purchasing their full text for the 2027-28 school year; stay tuned.)

I spent much of the summer doing research and coming up with a plan. I figured assembling my own little curriculum using some of these ideas, piecing together these different philosophies, couldn’t be too hard!

Joke’s on me! Turns out, assembling a curriculum, even for little kids, is really hard! Whew. This summer gave me a whole new level of deep respect for teachers and what they do.

Homeschooling is a staggering responsibility, to make yourself the sole custodian of your little humans’ whole entire development and formation; and figuring out the best way to do this is one of the most overwhelming things I’ve ever taken on. I’m not sure what I’m doing yet. But, I had to start somewhere. Here’s the approach I decided to take this year for my two students (and their three-year-old brother, who likes to be in on the fun). Please feel free to chime in let me know your thoughts, even if you’re not a homeschooler of any kind!

(I’ll go by subject matter, even though, per a Charlotte Mason understanding, subjects shouldn’t be so distinct, but rather seamlessly interwoven. I’m trying to do that, as you’ll see, but am very much still figuring this all out.)

Virtue & Character Formation: which is, after all, my primary goal for my kids, as a homeschooling mom. I’ve selected a “Virtue of the Month” for each month, pulling them straight from the beloved Book of Virtues, which is a real treasure-trove of poems and stories; my own grandfather gifted me a copy when I was a kid, but I never fully appreciated it until now. What we’re doing is talking about each virtue and how the characters in our literature either demonstrate it or don’t. Then we have a Virtue Jar going where each kid gets to put in a colored paper “chip” when I catch them demonstrating the virtue in daily life (color coded for each child). At the end of the month we’ll tally up the chips and some kind of prizes (TBD) will be given.

As a supplement, I checked out from my library a copy of Everyday Graces (Karen Santorum), and it’s such a beautiful tool for teaching good behavior! Definitely going to buy a copy of our own.

Read-Aloud: We’re doing a ton of reading together, mainly — this is the bulk of our school this year. Tbh when I was researching MoDG, I checked out their supplementary reading lists for grades K-2, and just shopped for a ton of those titles online at places like ThriftBooks. So I bought us a veritable mountain of quality picture books, fairy tale collections, chapter books, religious books, and CM-style “living books.” Our curriculum is decidedly literature-based.

So, I start each day with read-aloud time, about 20-30 minutes, during which we read a new picture book (one or two each week, which I planned to loosely align with our Virtue of the Month), some poems or stories from the Book of Virtues pertaining to our monthly virtue; also, from Grimm’s Fairy Tales and other classic fairy tale collections, fables, and some old story volumes from the early 20th century. I’ve also been reading stories from the Burgess Bird Book, an acclaimed CM homeschool resource, and my kids like it but tbh I’m not really loving it because all the birds in it are specific to England and we are, as mentioned, American; still nice stories, though. After reading I will ask my 6-year-old to recite one of the stories back to me (a CM practice).

Poetry: Also during reading time we rehearse our weekly poems. My goal is for my first grader to memorize a poem a week. I planned them out to go with our weekly and monthly history/science/virtue/literature studies, and have selected them from One Hundred Best Poems for Boys and Girls compiled by Marjorie Barrows (1930), as well as Laura Berquist’s own The Harp and the Laurel Wreath. At the end of the week, we’re trying to copy the poem down into our poetry notebook. My first grader is doing great with this so far, although the writing down requires more effort from her than the memorizing.

For my kindergartener, I’ve been using Seton’s Art & Poetry K. I loved using this with my older daughter (it was my favorite part of Seton’s kindergarten curriculum), so am using it for art & poetry again. Even though I don’t have Seton’s lesson plans anymore I still remember a lot of the art project ideas and little games that they suggested to go with the paintings/poems in this text. So, this part ties in with our art course. My five-year-old, however, is not super interested in learning poems verbatim (but prefers to make up nonsense rhymes of her own, which I love!). So the poems in the Seton text are kind of auxiliary, at the moment.

After read-aloud (and, if weather/time/my energy levels permit, a morning walk together), we do:

TABLE TIME SUBJECTS (>45 min for my first grader, >15 min for my kindergartener, and I don’t force her to do it if she’s not interested on any given day):

Religion: I’m just using the Baltimore Catechism. It’s perfect for home instruction, with one topic per week. At this age, I’m mainly focusing on getting my kids to memorize the answers to the questions, at least the most important ones. I also have purchased Seton’s Religion for Young Catholics books, K through 2, but these are basically just derived from the Baltimore Catechism anyway, so I just went with the OG.

My kids’ religious instruction at this point is really just part of our everyday life — our house is a very Catholic place, and we observe all the liturgical seasons and many saints’ days (including their own name days) and say the Rosary daily, so, they are mainly learning the Faith organically. My two eldest are also in weekly catechism classes at our church.

Another fun resource I’ve been using to aid our efforts at liturgical living is the Catholic Kid’s Cookbook (from Word on Fire). Granted, this is a modern book, with all the feast days listed per the modern calendar and some days categorized under “Ordinary Time,” which I don’t love (we follow the Traditional calendar). But the recipes are really fun (St. Charbel’s spicy smashed potatoes were my favorite so far!) and really good hands-on teaching aids. So we’ll be doing lots of those this year.

Phonics: As mentioned, my first grader isn’t in a Phonics course; she no longer needs one, she is a very advanced reader. For my kindergartener, I purchased Seton’s Phonics K course, the full set with workbook, flashcards, and mini reader booklets. I like its structure and think it will be helpful for my 5-year-old, who is not quite reading yet but getting really close. Plus I like how Catholic it is and how neatly it lines up with Seton’s Handwriting course for kindergarten. Which brings me to:

Handwriting: Seton’s method of teaching manuscript is simple and effective. It’s all I know, as a teacher, and it worked fine for my eldest, so I’m sticking with it for her little sister.

My first-grader has by now completed Seton’s Handwriting K and 1, but I don’t feel she’s quite ready for cursive yet; she needs to neaten up her print first and really master it. So, this year I purchased for her the Copybook 1 from Memoria Press. (It does have a small cursive section at the end, which we may introduce at the end of the year if all goes well, but I’m in no hurry.) I have mixed feelings about Copybook so far. I love the idea, but, figuring out exactly how to fit the lesson structure into our curriculum was pretty awkward for me. Some days of the week, Copybook focuses on language and memorization rather than writing, which is cool and all, but on those days I’ll be supplementing with some of the dictation passages from The Harp and the Laurel Wreath, so that my child can get a bit of writing practice each day. In a way Copybook’s method feels a bit overwhelming, since we’re already doing some other poetry memorization and religion studies; I may or may not decide to proceed with it. On the plus side though, it is a beautiful book, and I do like that it really encourages perfection and tidiness. My student’s handwriting has become so much neater already, it’s awesome to see!

If we run out of material for handwriting and need something a little beefier, I also purchased Our Lady’s Copywork for the Catholic Homeschool. I love this book!, it’s stunning!, but, I think the passages might be slightly overwhelming for my six-year-old at this point; we might save it for next year.

Math: We’re using Seton’s Math K and Math 2, respectively. My kindergartener does one page a day, and loves it, always begs me to do more, but I’m trying to keep the lessons short and sweet and focused. It’s really just a fun little activity for her, thus far. My 6-year-old does about one page, or 15 minutes (whichever comes first) of math a day. Just like me, she is naturally quite good at math but doesn’t find it as thrilling as art or literature, so doesn’t really care to exert herself in it. I’m still trying to figure out the right balance, in this area.

After table time, we do a 15-20 minute “brain break”, which constitutes

P.E.: okay, I’ll admit: this was the only part of our curriculum that I got help with from stupid old ChatGPT.

P.E. has never been my strong suit; I love exercising, but am by no means an “athlete” nor do I really know that much about “fitness” (I exist mainly in the realm of imagination and theory, and don’t really identify with nor particularly like my physical body). But, it was brought to my attention how important physical education is, even for little kids, so, not feeling confident at all, I asked Dr. Chat for general advice. Chat suggested practicing a different skill each month, such as “balance” or “strength” or “jumping,” playing little games related to that skill, and setting little goals to try and meet by the end of each month. Sure! Sounded fine to me! I generally don’t trust Chat with serious matters (would never go to it for advice on teaching literature or music), but, I figured there was no need to overcomplicate things, as long as my kids are getting a bit of healthy movement each day. In addition, they take weekly horseback riding lessons, which also provides physical training.

…so then, after brain break and lunch, we have our loop subjects, which are more free-form and rotate by the day:

Art: We’re doing weekly crafts, which as mentioned I’ve mainly borrowed from Seton’s Art & Poetry K suggestions; they go along with paintings in the book, and once again I’ve planned out which lesson we do each week to loosely align with our literature/virtue/science topics.

In addition, we’re doing art appreciation, using both Seton’s text and the Memoria Press Art Cards for K-2 (I bought all three stacks because I love them so much!). I went through and selected one art card per week to go with our Seton Art lesson; whether it’s same artist, similar theme, same artistic style, or whatever. Just so that we have a painting on the board to discuss, enjoy, and learn about. This has been a massive hit so far. In week one we did John Constable paintings, and my three year old is now obsessed with Salisbury Cathedral and learning about tall churches around the world. In week two we looked at “The Thankful Poor” (Henry Ossawa Tanner, from Seton) and “The Old Stagecoach” (Jonathan Eastman Johnson, from the Memoria stack), and we discussed being grateful with a little, not needing too much stuff to be happy — and our craft to go with this was assembling “blessing bags” for the local homeless (and decorating the bags with stickers). Stuff like that.

Music & Music Appreciation: I bought from Angelus Press a nice little book of Essential Latin Hymns, and aim to teach some of them to my kids this year, during the appropriate liturgical seasons. They love singing the Salve Regina and know it by heart, so I thought why not learn some more. We learned “Sancte Pie Decime” (the anthem of the SSPX; yes, we’re in the cult) as part of our novena to St. Pius X leading up to his feast day. That one was nice and easy, they loved it. Next I was hoping to teach them the Angelus (my fav), but they find that a bit overwhelming (“too much blah blah blah,” my 6-year-old said), so, we’ll see how it goes with the Latin hymns, going forward.

We also listen to the CDs that Seton provided for music class for kindergarten and first grade — I especially love the Catholic Songs for Kids album they give you for first grade music, it’s from the ’50s. It’s so charming, and the songs are stupid catchy (especially this one, which is pretty much never not stuck in my head nowadays). So, we listen to and sing these all the time. Music appreciation is also something we do just as part of our daily life, like I play a lot of baroque music in our van whenever we drive anywhere.

(I also have a copy of Memoria Press’s Music Enrichment supplement for K-2, and we used that some last year, but, tbh… I kind of don’t love a lot of the songs in it, lol, sorry, I just can’t with opera. I’ve really tried but I just can’t.)

One of my goals for this school year is to acquire a keyboard and start learning the piano together, too.

Nature Study/Science: I try to have my first-grader do nature journaling at least once a week. CM wanted kids nature journaling daily and outdoors six hours a day, but, for a suburban first grader, this just doesn’t feel super feasible. But we are doing some nature journaling and learning about our natural surroundings as our main science course.

As an addition, I saw a suggestion on Pinterest for weekly science unit studies for little kids that I thought sounded super fun! Each week we have a topic such as “weather” or “apples” or “magnets,” and I have a little activity/experiment based on that theme (again, Pinterest). I also check out a few kids’ library books on the topic for us to read together throughout the week.

I did buy both Science 2 from Seton and Kindergarten Science from MoDG, but honestly don’t really think I’ll be using either of these this year — they don’t feel super necessary.

History & Geography: For history we’re mainly doing “living books,” i.e. fun and engaging, high quality stories about historical people and events, which get us talking about history. I did also buy Seton’s Great Saints in World History for grade two, and that’s a nice little supplement! It allows us to learn both some saints and some geography together. I tried to plan out our bi-weekly chapters to go with other topics we’re studying that week, e.g. Saint Nicholas during the week of December 6th, St. Francis during the week of October 4th, etc.

Each saint in the book goes with a particular country that’s under their patronage, so we spend one week learning about the saint and one learning about the country. During the country week, we make a recipe for a food from that country, and read library books about that country.

I also bought CM’s Elementary Geography, and plan to read relevant chapters from it to go with our science & geography topics throughout the year… however, I’m not loving this resource yet; much like the Burgess Bird Book, it’s very English, and needs to be adapted for American kids.

Like music and religion, geography is something my kids learn about for fun, organically. We have a globe as well as a colorful map and a US map in our living/learning/playing space, and we look at these and talk about them at every opportunity! My 3-year-old loves to sing the continent song while looking at the map, and my 6-year-old studies the globe for fun while eating her meals. Seton’s first grade geography text was a really fun one for her last year, too, so I just might break that one out again at some point.

Safety: One day a month we have Safety Day, in which I review the important things they’re already familiar with, such as body safety, special safe adults, what to do if lost in public, Mom and Dad’s phone numbers, how to call 911 in an emergency, etc.

Supplements we’re enjoying: the Catholic Children’s Treasure Box series, a reprinted set of vintage (1957) books that include stories, poems, games, and crafts. I hand one of these to them at the end of the school day every three weeks or so. Also, the 12-volume boxed set of Fr. Lovasik’s Books of Saints (love his little books).

“But what about socialization?!”: Yeah, yeah. I have a lot of thoughts about the whole “what about socialization” question, which can be summed up in the relevant chapter of Mary Kay Clark’s Catholic Home Schooling. Long story short, I don’t think the “socialization” that kids get at public school is at all necessary or beneficial.

But, at the same time, I do want my kids to have social experiences, and don’t want to isolate them from the world. So, in addition to the social exposure they get at church and the various library events and activities we attend, we’re also getting involved with a couple of local homeschool field trip meetups.

We also practice social skills at home: how to behave when meeting a new person, how to greet someone, etc., including role-playing games that my kids love.

So, this sounds like a lot, I guess, but even on weeks when we get everything done, it’s really not.

And what I’ve described here is the perfect week in which nothing gets in the way. That doesn’t usually happen. I also have a one-year-old, and life is always hectic. Lately I’ve been sick, and haven’t been checking every box every single day; morning walks fell by the wayside, last week, as did trips to the library. Other days we have appointments out of the house. I always at least get table time and some read-aloud done.

And just because we’re practicing social skills and virtue does not mean we’re a super virtuous family or that my kids are little goody two-shoeses in every situation, lol that’s so far from the case. We are just a weird and chaotic little family who’s doing our best. I am NOT one of those trendy traddy aesthetic crunchy homeschooling mommy influencers who gets everything right, as you very well know if you read this blog. So, yeah, advice is welcome, and please don’t take anything I say too seriously — this is just the best that I’ve been able to piece together, on my own, at this point. It’s not perfect by any means, and looks pretty rough around the edges most days — but hey, it beats public school. At least I’m confident of that much.
Prime

September 13th, 2026

No, I’m not referring to Amazon. What I’m referring to is this particular overbaked, downward-sloping, late-summer time of year when I, like most people on earth, become one year older. (It’s true, mid-September birthdays are the most common of all, thanks, I guess, to the cozy Christmas spirit.)

This year, I am turning a prime number: 37. This feels significant somehow, or at least feels like it ought to feel significant, or maybe I’m just looking for significance where there is none. Have any of you guys noticed anything special about your “prime number” years?

Probably not, but I like to try to find meaning and patterns in the chaos. Let’s take a look back at my previous prime years, shall we, and see if we can observe any interesting trends:

31: the year I had my second baby, which was my most complicated pregnancy and birth. (She cute though; very round-headed; very worth it.) Also a year marked, in its back half, by Covid and a relapse into my ED. A very high-stress and very medical year.

29: the year I finally got sober and, two months later, got pregnant with my first child; probably one of my favorite years to date.

23: the year I finished college. I was actually 24 by the time I graduated in November, but spent most of 23 finishing up art school while drinking a ton. My cousin, who was a close childhood friend, died this year. It was a dark time marked by pretty severe anxiety.

19: Ugh. I have nothing nice to say about 19. Revenge Fat Phase in full swing; everyone around me was disgusted by me, while I just tried to tune it all out with headphones on and heavy Zoloft and heavy perfume (most ironically, “Happy Spirit” by Chopard and “Heiress” by Paris Hilton, lol), giddily binge-watching those early Jeffree Star makeup videos alone in my dorm. Spent six weeks in Germany just being fat and drunk and disgusting all over the place. Highly cringe.

17: the year I started to get really into booze, also, the first year I went to Ireland, which planted the seed of my interest in Christianity. Marked by heartbreak and angst but also creativity; a tragic but also fun age, as 17 tends to be I guess.

13: the year I created my fictional universe! Lots of turmoil irl, but lots of fun interiorly. Green and purple hair, handwritten stories and doodles, silly adventures with best friend.

11: the Invader ZIM year. Also, the year I finished elementary and started middle school. A turbulent age.

7: One of my best years. I had an awesome relationship with my first grade teacher (I was, in fact, the teacher’s pet) and was one of the most admired and influential kids in the class. My most low-anxiety, high-confidence year. Sometimes I really think I peaked at seven.

5: Started kindergarten; hated that. Onset of phobias and anxiety.

3: Moved to a new house on the other side of the state, from the city to the wooded countryside.

2: … I don’t remember being two.

…so, I dunno, seems pretty random. I guess this is a decent snapshot of my evolution through the years, and maybe you could call these milestones or a pattern of some kind — but, I think it’s more likely that selecting any assortment of eleven random years from my previous 36 would probably provide such a snapshot, considering that for most of my life I’ve been in the early, formative years, in which every year was majorly eventful, and feel like I am just now entering the phase where you get to put that formation to use and actually live your regular adult life. By 37, you’ve got all your pieces in place (in theory, anyway); you’ve developed your characters and nailed down your setting, and now, you proceed to actually playing the game. Doing the work of life.

That’s what it feels like to me, anyway. Like the “prime” of life, you might even call it. (Because I very much do not subscribe to the popular belief that 18-25 is the prime of your life! Yikes, what a sad, pitiful life that would be!)

Good news for any youngsters reading this: being in the latter half of your 30s is actually, surprisingly, chill as heck. It seems so horrifying, so bleak, so like the actual real-life End Times, from the POV of your 20s and early 30s, during which time you tend to look around at women a few years your senior and go: “good Lord Almighty!! That woman still dresses like that at 37?! Like she’s having fun with her wardrobe and makeup choices??! And that woman is 39 and still trash-talking like a teenager on social media? How pathetic! How embarrassing! Don’t they realize they are too old??! And, holy crap, that woman is 38 and actually pregnant??!! Gasp! I could NEVER!! Has she no shame? Pack it up, grandma! When I’m that old, I’ll at least be dignified about it! I’ll be decidedly ancient and past my prime!! The good times will be over, and I’ll just have to accept it gracefully!”

… but then, you get here, to your late 30s, and you realize you don’t actually feel any different. You’re still the exact same scared, stupid kid with the same juvenile passions and drippy little secret wants and needs. Just also with a few gray hairs and fine wrinkles, now.

But the cool thing about that is, the pressure is off. Women below the age of approximately 30-35 are perpetually, whether they like it or not, subject to this massive societal pressure to be Girly and Sexy and Appealing and Romantic, to be simultaneously a docile little angel and an independent #Girlboss, a pure waif and a sultry vixen at the same time, somehow, and are just heavily objectified left and right, by everyone, no matter what they do or what they look like.

But then! Once you’re past 35 and into the dark, dreaded Late Thirties territory, you’re relatively safe from all that. You’re immune now. You’ve aged out. You’re an old crone, you’re no longer marketable, and now you can just live out your days in peace.

But, you’re still in your 30s, so you’re still pretty healthy and spry and energetic and able to enjoy this freedom to the fullest! I, for one, am lucky to feel just as physically healthy and strong as I did at 29, but more stable, more aware of myself; imo, this is probably my peak form, right now, health-wise. I don’t see any reason to slow down on anything. It’s almost like I can do whatever I want, now.

So no. I’m not afraid to be 37. Already there are a few big things I’m looking forward to in the coming year (ten-year wedding anniversary, my first child’s First Communion…), and who knows what will come after. The forecast looks to be way better than 27 or 17 was. Not sure if I can beat 7, though — that was a really good year.

Hey, we’ll see though. An old crone can still be surprised. Bring on the Prime.
TOP 10: Cartoon Characters I Have Loved

September 8th, 2026

Daily writing prompt
Who is your favorite cartoon character?
View all responses

… I bet you can’t guess who my all-time favorite cartoon character is. It’s not like I make it painfully obvious on my WordPress profile or anything.

So, the real ones, those who know their early-90s animated films, already know who #1 on this list is going to be.

But there are at least nine others also worth mentioning:

.

Cartoon characters and I, we have a long history. Going all the way back to early childhood, I’ve had these phases of intense obsession with certain cartoon characters.

I think this fictophilia is connected to the AVPD in some way: fictional figures are easier, less dangerous, to love; in the safety of your imagination, they can’t hurt you, and you can’t fumble it with them. Imaginary worlds are the only places where it’s safe to experience strong emotions. I’m sure many of us socially anxious nerds out there can relate.

But the catch is, made-up characters can still hurt you — when they’re not your own.

Because you have no control over someone else’s intellectual property. You might daydream about it, you might wish you did, but you don’t. Thus, when you love a fictional character, there’s still a risk. You don’t get to decide what happens to them in their story. You have to wait, with bated breath, for the creator to release new content. You’re reliant on an outside source for canon information. (Unless you’re into fanfiction, I guess, which I, being a fierce individualist, have never been; with exactly two notable exceptions, I’ve always looked all the way down my nose at fanfic; be original, if you’re going to create something; don’t steal someone else’s characters, ffs!) You can’t just access their world at any time — you can’t have any actual agency in the character’s “life.” And besides, all the other fans have just as much right to them as you do. You have to share them. You never get to own them.

I didn’t like that. It made things too stressful, for me, too roller-coastery, too unpredictable. Made me feel helpless and weak and needy and pathetic. I hate being dependent. Also hate sharing what is deeply important to me — no, you can’t love this character too, they are mine! I hate being a trend-follower.

So, I came up with the best solution: OCs.

My own fictional people to obsess over. And now I make the rules, and am not a slave to any creator but myself.

And it worked! Beautifully! Since the inception of my fictional world in early 2003, I haven’t had any more intense obsessions with other people’s characters. Only mine. I am free. I am alone — the sole member of this little fandom, with no one to geek out about characters or new content with — but, I am free. And I get to decide what is canon now!

There are still characters that I’ve greatly enjoyed, though. Not all of the characters on this list are ones with which I had one of my signature pre-2003 intense obsessions. Some of these, I just think are super cool. Even though I’m no longer subject to such obsessions, I still have a lot of love for animation/illustration and fictional people in general. Anyway — I’ll explain more as we go along. Without further ado:

10. Buzz Lightyear. I’m no Pixar fan, not anymore, and it honestly pisses me off that they are still making Toy Story sequels — shamelessly milking every last penny out of that dried-up franchise that they possibly can, instead of coming up with original ideas — disgusting. But, Buzz couldn’t not make this list, because he was my first love — my first real crush. My first cartoon obsession. I was in first grade, and the original Toy Story had just come out, and I was as in love with Buzz Lightyear as a seven-year-old could be. I had all the merch, the action figures, the sweatsuit — it was my Whole Thing. Even then, it had an unhealthy element of intense shame. I was afraid for people to know how deep were my feelings about Buzz, but also longed to talk about nothing but him every minute of the day, which was a very isolating sort of feeling. It felt like a proto-addiction. I don’t know why I was already like this at seven years old.

9. Clopin (the puppet guy from Hunchback of Notre Dame). He became my next obsession after Buzz. For years, I thought something was very wrong with me, psychologically, for finding Clopin so strangely attractive — but in recent years, I’ve learned that I’m far from alone! There are lots of girls out there who salivate over him! He has quite a fandom! What is it about him? In real life, I’m not into skinny twiggy guys. But Clopin has a certain weird charisma for sure. Second-grade Mith was not the only one who noticed, after all.

8. Rei Kashino from the manga series MARS. This was 2004, so the post-OC era; thus I never developed an intense obsession, but this series came pretty close, and got under my skin way more than media usually does (and, tbh, had quite an influence on my fictional world, which I’m ashamed to admit can still be noticed in my writing to this day). I’ve said it before and will say it again: this is the best manga of all time, and Rei and Kira are two of the most beautiful characters ever drawn in the genre; they’re everything that the stars of a high school romance should be. Plus, it has that ’90s aesthetic that I’m such a simp for.

7. Trent from Daria. Again: not a serious obsession, but I always loved this show, and Trent was my favorite male character. How I longed, back in those days, for a lazy stoner band guy of my very own. I was as infatuated with him as Daria herself was. (Interestingly, she and I both actually ended up with well-adjusted, wholesome, intelligent, literature-loving Good Guys.) My favorite female character on this show?: undoubtedly Sandi. “GEE, QUINN 🤨” is something I still repeat semi-regularly to myself, when the situation merits it, because her accent was just so hilarious.

6. Johnny, the Homicidal Maniac. This is such a gross, terrible comic book series, and I no longer have any love for it at all, but when I was in seventh grade I thought it was just sooo extremely ~Edgy~ and ~Dark~ and ~Punk Rock~. 🙄 Nny was, in fact, my last major cartoon character obsession; it was the unbearable emotional turmoil of that particular phase that made me realize I couldn’t do this anymore, I had to get some OCs of my own. The secrecy, the irresistibility, the maddening weight of it. I won’t even go into detail about the great lengths that I went to to obtain a copy of the Director’s Cut — my parents, obviously, didn’t want me to have it — and to keep it a secret. It’s truly embarrassing to admit, now, but there was a time when I thought Johnny C. was dreamy as heck and fantasized daily about being the only person in his life that he wouldn’t want to kill.

5. Miguel and

4. Tulio, from The Road to El Dorado. Obviously, I mean, come on. These guys were my 4th-5th grade obsession. DreamWorks knew exactly what they were doing here; this movie had no business being so sexy.

3. Izaya from DRRR!. I discovered this one in 2018, so well beyond the era of my youthful obsessions… but, this came pretty close to mirroring that, and if I’d found the show/manga prior to 2003, I just know it would have become a Whole Thing. Izaya specifically is the magic ingredient that makes the series so much fun; he is the best anime villain of all time, and he and Shizuo are my favorite anime couple (I know the creator has said that they’re not in love, and I know I said above that fans don’t get to decide what’s canon, buuuut, yeah, in this case, sorry, Shizaya is canon.)

2. Invader ZIM. My second-to-last major cartoon obsession. And before you accuse me of being some kind of trend-following HotTopic scene kid, know that I was there when it began. I watched the ZIM pilot not the Friday night it aired, but two nights later when they re-aired it on Sunday night (April 1, 2001). Immediately it became a Whole Thing. I was 11, and positively indignant that no one (in the show or irl) took Zim seriously, no one else understood him, but I saw him for what he really was, I respected him, he and I were made for each other, we would take over this miserable planet together! I was extremely secretive about this obsession, to the point where I’d literally build a privacy tent by draping a big blanket over my head + the family PC (or my head and the TV, while standing like 1 foot away from the screen) to watch ZIM or look at pictures of him on AOL. So that the family wouldn’t see what I was doing. It was all I cared about, and I lived in constant, sickening fear of being found out. Again, I don’t know why I was already like this at such a young age.

And finally, my favorite cartoon character of all time:

1. Batty, of course. Batty was never a Major Obsession of mine, never a crush or anything (even I’m not that weird, haha!) but actually, that makes my associations with him even more positive, because, as mentioned, these obsessions were always riddled with so much fear and angst and shame. No, Batty has been a constant; he’s always just made me happy when I see him, happy when I think about him, and as a vegetarian/vegan/supporter of animal rights and a generally tense, anxious, mistrustful, creepy, and weird person in general, I’ve always strongly identified with him as a character. I’m never getting any more tattoos, but if I had to get one, it’d be of Batty for sure. Plus, as you guys know, I’ve loved rap music from an early age, and Batty Rap was one of the first rap songs I loved — it is to this day probably the hardest song in any kids’ movie ever. I mean come on:

… So yes, there’s that; now you all know how weird I really am. Whatever. I’m in the back half of my 30s now and happily married to a real life flesh-and-blood human person, and wouldn’t have it any other way, so, go ahead and call me whatever you want. If I cared anymore, I wouldn’t be posting this on my blog. If somehow you are still reading this and can actually relate to any of it — hi! we should be friends.
The Worst Book I’ve Ever Read

September 5th, 2026

Daily writing prompt
Have you ever regretted reading a book — which one and why?
View all responses

Why yes, WordPress Daily Prompts! There is a book that I regret reading! I read it six years ago, and still think almost daily about how much I regret reading it. An absolutely despicable trash heap of an excuse for literature. Seriously — may as well bind up a bunch of used bathroom tissue between two covers and call it a book. Buckle up folks!

(– oh, wow. Now I actually feel kind of bad writing this. I just Googled the author to see if he was still alive, because if so I wanted to begin my post with a quick little aside directed at him personally, to say that I mean him no offense; my revulsion and horror at his book is a clear sign that he accomplished his goal to a T, and he’s actually a very gifted writer; he set out to write something despicable, gross, and nightmare-inducing, and did so perfectly, more memorably than anyone else I’ve ever read. I was going to write him this little note, here, and then saw, upon Googling, that he apparently died earlier this year. I had no idea. May his soul rest in peace.)

The author in question is one Dan Simmons (1948-2026), and the horrible book of his that I regret reading is Song of Kali.

Have any of you ever read this? If so, then you know what I’m talking about. If not, then don’t read it — especially if you’re a parent.

Why did I even read this book? I don’t usually go for dark horror. (I do enjoy some fun paranormal horror sometimes, like a bit of Stephen King, but not the heavy/grisly stuff.) The reason is, my husband and I were looking for a book to read together, as we often like to do, and a coworker of his, knowing that my husband likes horror, recommended this Dan Simmons book. We didn’t know what to expect, but decided to give it a shot.

I am going to spoil this book for you (TW), because I don’t believe it merits not spoiling, so, stop reading here if for some reason you actually plan on reading this piece of garbage.

The baby dies. An eight-month-old baby girl dies brutally. Why, I still wonder, did my husband’s coworker recommend this book to him, knowing that he had an eight-month-old daughter at home at the time? FFS.

Sometimes a tragedy in a book is good, is meaningful. Sometimes it’s earned. This one… was not. Everything leading up to the death was horrible and miserable, and the death just felt like: “oh wow, okay, we’re really gonna stoop this low now.” It wasn’t even the thrilling, exciting kind of horror. It was just dreary and miserable from start to finish; not a single moment that made you feel like any of it was worthwhile. Horror should at least be fun, imo.

“Well, that doesn’t mean dark horror is bad, Mith, it just means you don’t like it.” Wrong! If Song of Kali is a good example of “good” dark horror, then the entire genre is objectively shit and anyone who believes otherwise needs to see a psychiatrist.

If you’re going to make your audience straight up miserable from beginning to end, you’d better have a very good reason for it (exhibit A: the movie Calvary). “Look at how horrible I can make you feel” is not a good reason.

The other thing that pissed me off about Song of Kali was, it left a really bad taste in my mouth for anything relating to the beautiful nation of India. I’ve always appreciated India (some of the best vegetarian cuisine in the world!), which was one reason why this book appealed to me at first. The novel focuses on an American family’s trip to India, and is very much about India, and dwells a lot on the sensory details of its scenery, cityscapes, customs, and culture — always casting it in an extremely unappetizing light. Making the whole country look like one big nightmarish circus sideshow. I think if I were of Indian descent, I’d be downright offended! It’s a truly unflattering portrait of a perfectly decent country. From the time I read this book, for a long time, any mention of anything Indian gave me the major ick. (Until I discovered this absolute gem of a song, that is; thank you to this artist for singlehandedly healing my India trauma.)

Well, that’s enough. I’ve already wasted too much time on this book. In conclusion: Song of Kali is trash. No offense to Mr. Simmons, who clearly was a sick genius of some kind. I wish him all the best, but, dear reader, if you value your time and/or your inner peace, do not read this book. I’m still mad about the hours of my life that I wasted allowing myself to be tortured by this book for no reason.
TOP 10: Reasons I’m Not Converting to Islam (plus, the long story of how I almost began to kind of halfway think about considering converting)

September 3rd, 2026

Confession time! I’m about to get real honest here.

You may have noticed — or, probably not, who am I kidding — that MiTHology (4.0) has been down, or available only in a very abbreviated version, for a little while now. But it’s back! Why? What happened?

Well, a number of things. There’s been a lot of things happening in my irl life. One of which has been that I’ve been hitting a point of utter exhaustion — burnout, even — with regards to the whole identity crisis that has basically been the subject of this blog since its inception.

In recent times, I’ve found that it feels more tiring, more depressing than anything, trying to be a Traditional Catholic. Don’t get me wrong!, I’m fully aware that being Christian is not meant to be a cake walk; look to the examples of the martyrs and see that suffering is love, we must expect unhappiness in this world, and etc. etc. And I’ve never been big on feelings, anyway. Religion is an intellectual thing, for me, and always has been, so whether a religion is fun/pleasant or not isn’t really a deciding factor, for me, when it comes to whether it’s true.

However, I also don’t think the experience of being Catholic is supposed to look like “constant feelings of crippling social anxiety, self-doubt, and heart-pounding stress about not measuring up to some strict lifestyle standard.” I’m not even talking about religious scrupulosity. It’s more like a pathological case of “keeping up with the Joneses.” It’s not a noble struggle against sin and the world, or anything like that. It’s just a fucking drag.

For a long time, I was really feeling like: “the Traditional Church is no place for me, I simply cannot belong here, the social pressure is too much” – but at the same time, going back to the modern Church was no longer an option, now that I could see what a sad joke it is (I mean, “excommunicating” the SSPX, but meanwhile doing fuck-all about the “Proud Catholic” American politician who signed into effect a bill allowing abortion up until birth, for any reason? Give me a break!). I never stopped believing in Catholicism, but the whole system started to feel broken and uninhabitable, for me.

So, around this time, the time that I finally hit a burnout point with my Catholic life (and also at a low point, hormonally), I happened to stumble upon the topic of Islam.

As you may have seen in my other recent Top 10 post, a lot of things about it really appealed to me. A lot of things.

I said in that post that there was no part of me that was even remotely considering the possibility of converting. That was, actually, not entirely true.

Islam has a lot of things going for it. To someone who’s burnt out, and feels like living as a Catholic has become borderline impossible… it’s incredibly seductive.

I fear sounding “ecumenical” by praising the virtues of Islam here, but, you know what, I’m just going to be honest.

The really alluring thing, for me, was the simplicity. For someone whose faith is purely an intellectual endeavor, this is huge — Occam’s razor and all.

In Islam, it’s like this: there is one God, the Creator. Muhammad is his prophet, so do what the Quran says. End of story.

In Catholicism, it’s like: there is one God, the Creator. But also, God is a Trinity, Who begot the Son and they brought forth the Holy Ghost and don’t even bother trying to understand this because trying to express it in a way that makes sense is actually literally heresy. Also, Mary is conceived without original sin (which btw is a thing, which means that everyone, even newborns, are automatically guilty of something they never did and are born deserving of eternal hellfire; take a look at your newborn child and tell me this isn’t a counterintuitive teaching!) and is the Mother of God, i.e. of Jesus, Who is both God and man and was resurrected from the dead (!) and then ascended into Heaven in a cloud and also assumed His Mother up to Him soon thereafter, which is dogma although not in the Bible. Which btw is a collection of hard-to-interpret stories by many different authors from across the centuries and sometimes should be interpreted literally, other times poetically, so it’s authoritative but also you need an authority figure to interpret it for you. And if you don’t believe any of that you cannot call yourself Catholic.

What I’m saying is, Catholicism is complex and beautiful and has a lot going on, philosophically. It requires a lot more intellectual assent than Islam. A lot more prep work and formation. For me, who wasn’t raised Christian so struggled to get on board with Jesus and Mary, but never really struggled to believe in God, the basics of Islam line up much more effortlessly with what I know, at my core, without any kind of “intellectual assent” or “acceptance,” to be true.

What I mean is, I know that God exists like I know that 2+2=4. All the other Catholic doctrines, I accept because I’m told it’s so and I believe the Church is trustworthy, that its teachings are beautifully, perfectly logical. But, it’s hard to believe, on a gut level. It’s hard to believe that the Resurrection, the Ascension, or the Assumption really happened, or that babies are born guilty, or that a human woman could be the Mother of God. Those things are mind-boggling and require a lot of humility to accept. But I do choose to accept them, as an act of faith, because it seems to add up and I want to believe it.

But that feels a lot different from knowing, the way I know there is one God, the Creator.

There are lots of other things about Islam that I liked, too. The clarity. In Catholicism, there’s a lot of gray area, with regards to whether certain things are permissible at certain times and for certain people. For example: the issues of music, family planning, enjoying art, and exactly how much to give when it comes to charitable giving. In Islam, there are very clear answers to all of these questions! There’s no “better ask your parish priest.” It’s just a yes or a no.

And even in issues where there’s more wiggle room/gray area, like family planning, the answers are much more clear: a simple “it’s permissible but not good, and never required” – such a concise reply to a question that had been plaguing me for years, and no Christian ever seemed to have such a short and sweet answer to!

And how much should I give charitably?? Another question that’s stressed me out since my conversion twelve years ago! Christians play it by ear, it’s a very case-by-case type of situation, but Muslims literally HAVE A CALCULATOR where you punch in your income, assets, bills, and debts, and it spits out the exact number you need to give. I freaking love that idea!

It just seemed to make so much sense! Everything felt so clean and bright! Certain things about it just clicked with me, such as alcohol, music, and dog drool all being haram/unclean. So clear, so simple, so right.

Not only that, but everything about Islam looked, to me, much more consistently aligned with the Old Testament. The apparent disparity between the religion/spirituality of the Old Testament and that of modern Christianity has always been a bit hard for me to understand (and yes, I know there is a Catholic explanation, which I do understand and agree with; but the Islamic answer is much easier to understand, and requires much less in the way of mental acuity and flexibility and reading comprehension).

The simple, uncomplicated core tenet of Islam – “there is one God, the Creator” – felt so right, so familiar to me. It felt like what I had naturally believed all along, like something already built into me. – And guess what! It’s not just me. Muslims actually have a word for this feeling (“Fitrah”)! They believe that everyone is essentially born Muslim at their heart, inclined to believe in and serve the one true God. That’s why all converts to Islam are called “reverts,” even if they were never technically Muslim before. When I learned that, about Fitrah and reversion, it honestly give me chills.

And plus! To me, it seemed rather telling that Muslims view Christians with respect, thinking they’re on the right track but sadly misguided, while Christians talk about Muslims as if they are absolutely the devil incarnate. The same reason (among the many reasons, that is) that I went with Catholicism over Orthodoxy. We Catholics think of the Orthodox as our sadly-separated brothers in Christ, while the Orthodox (or, at least the online Orthobros) view us as EVIL !! and HERETICS !! and GOING TO HELL. Typically, my instinct tells me that the more generous, level-headed, polemic-free side of any argument is probably onto something. Because the truth doesn’t need a bunch of heated polemicists raging to defend it, right?

So yes. I was a bit seduced. I began to wonder if if was true.

But at the same time… I didn’t trust. I didn’t trust my own feelings or thought process here. And the fact that I felt so strongly, made me trust myself even less. How could I be feeling so strongly about another religion when like five minutes ago I was claiming to be all about Catholicism? What is happening? Am I that big of a flake? Am I really just one of those loony, unstable religious maniacs who’s always converting? “Oh look, this week she’s a Hijabi, what’ll it be next week? And she expects everyone to take her seriously!” What will I be in ten years, then – a Hindu?! And am I going to drag my children along on this roller coaster with me?! That’s not fair to them, to have an unstable mom who keeps changing up the truth on them, whipping the rug out from under their tender feet!

(Luckily, I wasn’t gullible enough to actually introduce my children to Islam. No, this only went on for a few weeks, and remained a private experiment, because I knew I needed time to figure it out before speaking about it to anyone; there was never a question of making it a family affair anytime soon. At least I’m not that much of a maniac, I guess.)

But is there really no substance to me whatsoever? Am I really just completely empty inside after all? (Truly, this is the first time in my 36 years that I can say I know what it’s like to feel “empty inside.”)

Islam and Catholicism: clearly, one of these religions is right and the other is wrong. The fact that I felt drawn to both, inevitably implies that somewhere along the way, I’d fallen for Satan’s wiles. It was all just massively discouraging.

Luckily, this whole time, I had a quiet intuition that I would never actually convert away from Catholicism. I think I somehow knew I couldn’t. This fascination with Islam, it was like developing a crush on someone new while you’re in a committed relationship. They say that when you first fall in love with someone, all their little quirks are so charming and endearing, and you’ll happily make excuses for anything they do – but after you’ve been together a while, those same quirks start to annoy you. (Husband, if you’re reading this, I’m not talking about you; it’s just an oft-repeated trope about long-term relationships; you do not annoy me.) If hypothetically I had chosen to think about converting… at this point, I had to admit, with a deep sigh, I could already foresee myself wanting to convert again in a matter of months or years. (And in Islam you’re liable to be killed if you do that, lol. No joke, that’s in the Quran.)

And besides my own utter emptiness and flakiness, which led me to believe that I can’t really be trusted to choose my own religion at all, there were several other things that turned me off from the whole Islam thing, and made me content to stay where I am.

And these aren’t your typical “Why I’m Not a Muslim” arguments. Believe me, I listened to and read a lot of those! And some of the most popular ones, I honestly didn’t find very compelling. I was even prepared to defend it in some of these regards:

I wasn’t swayed by accusations of it being “the religion of violence.” Because the Old Testament is seriously comprised of like 40% stories about the Israelites slaughtering entire cities, including women and children, to win the land for God. And that was seen as a good thing, a victory. If we believe in that, then why are we appalled by the idea that God is violent sometimes, even today? I don’t like the idea any more than you do, but, what if? As Flannery O’Connor famously quoted, the Bible itself says “the Kingdom of Heaven suffereth violence, and the violent bear it away.” I think our modern society is so pacifistic, so estranged from death, that we have lost touch with that primitive, bloody religiosity that we see in the O.T. and in Islam. And we Christians say that our religion was spread peacefully, “by the blood of martyrs,” but it’s not like the Crusades and the European conquest of the Americas didn’t happen. And besides all that, the vast majority of Muslims are peaceful folks who mind their own business, anyway.

Nor was I swayed by the accusations that the Quran is highly imperfect, that it was originally written with bad spelling and grammar, or that it’s not perfectly preserved as some claim. For one, Muhammad was illiterate, so it makes sense that if he (or his scribes) were writing down what God had spoken to him, there’d probably be grammatical/spelling errors. And even if there are slightly different versions of the Quran floating around in the world, I think it’s probably still more consistent, content-wise, than the Bible, which, we followers of Christ can’t even agree on how many books it has.

Nor was I swayed by the “just because it’s beautiful doesn’t mean it’s from God” argument. I wasn’t sold on the argument from beauty yet, but didn’t think I could dismiss it entirely without having some familiarity with Arabic. Apparently, the beauty and poetry of the language of the Quran in the original Arabic is unrivaled, so sublime as to be impossible for a human to mimic. “Well so what,” some Christians say. “Shakespeare wrote beautiful poetry, does that mean he was God?” I don’t think we should be so quick to throw this argument out without knowing the language. There are degrees of beauty, some things are more beautiful than others, and you can’t really compare when they’re not even written in the same alphabet. Shakespeare may be good, but no one was ever inspired to say of his works that “there’s no way a human wrote this.” There must be something to the Quran, then, maybe, I thought.

Nor even by the arguments from science, which normally go like this: a Muslim says “the Quran expresses scientific truths that someone in 600AD Arabia couldn’t possibly have known, things that humans wouldn’t discover to be scientifically true until centuries later!” To which a Christian replies, sarcastically: “you mean like that the moon was literally split in two, or that the sun descends into a pond when it sets, or that semen is produced between a man’s backbone and ribs?”

To which Mith replies: eh, so what? Science is cool but it doesn’t really sway me either way, when it comes to this stuff, because it seems that “trusting the science” is just as much a matter of faith as any religion. We humans love to think we’ve got it all figured out because We Did the Science. But trusting our own perceptions, or, to remove it even a step further, the perceptions of the authorities in academia just because they’re in academia, is a bold move. This is why I don’t have an opinion on things like evolution, the reality of dinosaurs, the literal or non-literal nature of the Genesis creation story, whether the moon was split, or where semen actually comes from. I think there’s more to the natural world than meets the eye, and the best we humans can do is infer… but I don’t necessarily trust it, anymore than I trust my own wishy-washy religious sentiments.

So no, the science argument didn’t sway me, nor did several other Christian counterarguments. But! There were some things I learned that did sway me back toward Catholicism. And here they are:

10. Islam’s prohibition on music, art, and dance. This was the first thing I learned about Islam that made me go: hmm, wait a minute, that doesn’t seem right.

However, as you know, I don’t trust my own feelings, so I didn’t let that sway me; after all, if I just follow whatever “feels right” to me, then my only religion is myself, right? I’m aware that the idea is to follow God not because He makes sense to us, but because He is God. So if He says “don’t make art or music,” then that’s that… right?

And plus, to further support the notion of an art ban: in the King James Version of the Christian Bible, the Fourth Commandment actually is translated as saying “thou shalt not make any likeness of any living thing.” – Not saying that I put too much stock in a Protestant interpretation. The Catholic interpretation here is that we are not to make any idols out of objects that we make ourselves. Which makes more sense, considering that right there in the same book, God commands Moses and the Israelites to construct the serpent on Moses’s staff and the angels on the Ark of the Covenant. So I think we Catholics got it right, with this one.

Drawing, dancing, and singing are such a natural part of being human. Kids start doing them when they’re still babies. It’s how they learn. If for adults these are sinful to do… at what age do they become sinful? How can something that’s good for little kids to do (because Islam even admits that kids should sing, draw, and play with dolls) become a sin after a certain age? It doesn’t add up, to me.

It’d be like if we were told it was sinful to have friends or to play or to laugh; just essential parts of being human.

Now, I get that something being natural doesn’t make that thing good. Plenty of things that humans do by nature are bad. But, those things are things that we teach our kids not to do. They aren’t things that are educational in the formative years and then become bad. That just doesn’t make sense. Bad is always bad.

I think the reason for the ban against drawing likenesses of living things, is because humans shouldn’t presume to try to be like God.

Which brings me to another interesting difference between Catholicism and Islam. As Christians, our goal is what the Orthodox call “theosis:” becoming God. Reducing the self until we are one with God, so that His will is our will, and we can be wholly united to Him in Heaven. Art – beautiful art, that is – aids in this process because, in creating, we are co-creators with God. Imitating Him and His goodness. Creativity is, after all, a gift that He has given us, made in His image as we are. And beautiful art can teach people about the goodness of God.

In Islam there is no such thing as theosis. Humans cannot be like God and shouldn’t even presume to try. Only God can create life, and to try to imitate Him is haram.

Personally, I think the Christian approach feels more right and more edifying. “It’s just that you’re an indoctrinated Westerner,” a Muslim might tell me, “and an art school alumna at that!” – but, creativity is universal, isn’t it? Is it really likely that something we encourage in our children, for their education, is actually satanic? I’m not buying it.

9. Ideas about marriage. The Quran explicitly tells husbands to “beat” their wives as discipline when they act up. And this is the literal word of God?! I’m no feminist, and am all for traditional gender roles in marriage, but I firmly believe that wife-beating is never Godly behavior. A Godly man can lead his wife without hurting her. “Love your wives as Christ loves His Church” is, imo, a much holier instruction for marriage.

And, the Quran tells men to take multiple wives – up to four, I think. And Muhammad himself had more than that.

Now, I’m aware that we see this a lot in the Old Testament, and if consistency with the Old Testament matters so much, then why should polygamy bother me?

Well, in the New Testament Christ specifically tells us that God allowed the Israelites to practice divorce because they were weak and God is merciful – but that does not mean that divorce is good. Makes sense that the same probably applies to polygamy. God made Eve for Adam; one man + one woman just makes sense; the nuclear family is written into the laws of nature, and it’s silly to argue that it’s not. It’s pretty evident to me that Christ clarified, sanctified, and perfected natural law marriage. Along with a lot of other things about the Old Testament.

8. Still continuing with the topic of marriage: one of Muhammad’s wives was literally six years old when he married her! And he was in his fifties at the time! Oh but don’t worry!, he didn’t consummate the marriage until she was nine… nine…!, and this man is supposed to be the ultimate model of virtue, the paragon of goodness, the example of exactly how we should behave, as humans. Hard pass. I’m aware that societal norms were different in 600AD Arabia, but I just don’t think there was ever a time or place in which it was morally okay for a 50 year old man to sleep with a 9 year old.

7. Allah literally calls himself “The Great Deceiver,” at one point in the Quran. Yikes! That freaked me out a bit. It directly contradicts what we Catholics say in the Act of Faith: “… I believe these and all the truths which the Holy Catholic Church teaches, because Thou hast revealed them, Who canst neither deceive nor be deceived.” The latter sounds more like the God that my heart believes in. The former sounds… kinda like the opposite.

6. Which brings me to this one historical tidbit. Apparently, when Muhammad first received his divine vision, he was horrified, and thought it was satan, and immediately wanted to commit suicide because of it. Does that sound like something that came from God? How could anything from God make a person want to kill themselves? That doesn’t sound right to me; I couldn’t quite get past this one.

5. The Islamic idea of heaven, or Jannah, doesn’t sound as heavenly to me as the Christian Heaven.

This goes back to the theosis thing I discussed in item #10. In Catholicism (and Orthodoxy), for us to enter Heaven, we must become like God. Because Heaven is basically being one with God, engaged in eternal worship of God: the eternal glory of perfect love, of participation in the love of the Blessed Trinity, of singing the praises of God forever. That’s why, per a Catholic understanding, most people don’t actually want to go to Heaven, even though they might think they do. Most people just want satisfaction of their self-centered desires – a condition which is better suited to life in hell. Most people, if they could glimpse Heaven, would probably actually choose hell because it’s easier, and you’re more able to focus on yourself and your own desires. It’s more familiar, basically. This is why so few people go to Heaven – because so few people actually want to! If we truly want to, of course Christ will welcome us in. But to be a member of God we must actually let ourselves be made members of God via theosis.

So that’s the Christian take on Heaven. It’s challenging, it’s edifying, it’s beautiful, and it makes sense.

Muslims don’t do theosis. For them, Jannah is like an eternal dessert: a prize for being good on earth, a paradise of eternal pleasure. If I understand it correctly, it’s a place where Allah will let them enjoy whatever they want: beautiful spouses, delicious food, comfortable houses, just sheer pleasure and delight for all eternity.

It sounds appealing, sure!, but, imo this take on Heaven also kind of… demeans the human person? “Material pleasure is the best thing you can hope to achieve” – but, we’re not animals. And frankly, wouldn’t all that pleasure get kind of boring after a few millennia? This idea of heaven doesn’t really require you to become perfect. Just following the letter of the law doesn’t make you good, as Christ very well taught us. So I have a hard time believing that this is God’s design for humanity. God as I understand Him wants real happiness for us, i.e. the destruction of selfish appetites and living entirely in union with Him.

4. This one is more of a subjective reason than an argument, but, religion, after all, should be both subjective and objective, for us, so it makes sense that some of my reasons are subjective. Such a legalistic, black-and-white system can easily lead to despair, in my experience.

Case in point: as I became interested in Islam, for a brief period I started trying to copy their prayer style, to like try it on for size, if you will, while still praying as a Catholic; thinking maybe I could borrow some of the elements of their faith that I liked, and apply them to a Catholic lifestyle. So I had alarms in my phone. When the alarm goes off, you have a set amount of time to drop whatever you’re currently doing and do your prayers. If you don’t do them in that set amount of time, or if you don’t wash properly beforehand, or if you don’t have your feet and hands in the correct positions, or if something distracts you and you have to pause and talk to someone, your prayers are worthless. Or if there’s a picture hanging on your wall, your prayers in that room are worthless. Whew! I realize that the idea is that God just wants you to do your best and that’s what counts… but also, this mindset of “it must be a certain way at a certain time or it doesn’t count”… in my experience, which was just a few days, it made me just want to give up. I couldn’t do it on time, I couldn’t not be interrupted, so why bother. I didn’t know what to say anymore. My prayer life suffered.

3. Besides, upon further research, I found that Islamic moral philosophy is not always so black and white after all. Just like in Catholicism, you have your progressives and you have your Rad Trads. Opinions vary widely, from “the hijab is not required” to “women should cover even their fingernails, and must never speak in public because even their voice is ‘awrah.’” Likewise, some say “all music is haram because it intoxicates the mind, just listen to the Quran instead”; others contest this by saying “it’s really only music made on certain kinds of instruments that’s haram, so, it’s totally licit if you’re making music on a computer.” Or, “only certain lyrics and genres are haram, but classical is fine.” Same exact deal as us over here in the West! So, if you’re looking for a refuge of total clarity, I can report that this actually isn’t the way to go.

2. Going back to number four and the despair thing: in trying to think about things in Islamic-ish terms, I quickly became overwhelmed by a feeling that I was hated by God and certainly hellbound.

See, in theory, I like that Islam emphasizes God as sovereign creator instead of warm-and-fuzzy loving Father. I like that prayer focuses on “God is the Greatest” instead of “Hey Daddy God, here are all my wittle pwoblems, please make me feel better.” As a cerebral person who doesn’t feel love easily, the former feels more right to me.

In Islam, people are not God’s children, but his slaves. I initially found that a refreshing approach, and much easier to believe (because, seriously, it really boggles the mind to think that the great Eternal God cares a whit about little old me and my dumb little problems!). But, given the logistical difficulty of following every single little rule, in Islam, it’s super easy to fall into thinking “I’m a bad slave.”

Which is a terrible way to think. It’s one thing to realize that you are a beloved but disobedient child. That’s a challenge; it’s convicting and encouraging at the same time. You have to do better because God your Father cares about you. But, a bad slave – what’s even the point of your existence, now. Who cares about you? You’re not even wanted. You’re just trash, like, on like a cosmic level, you are literally trash. So, in trying to try on a semi-Islamic mindset, I very quickly felt hated by God (and am still kind of battling with this). In Catholicism, this is actually a sin – despairing of God’s mercy. So, this was a major red flag to me.

Love, while difficult, is, imo, a pretty important aspect of God, which is evident from our lived experience as human beings (love is the greatest thing we can experience, the greatest thing we are capable of, and the thing we desire most of all; why would we be designed this way if God were not, Himself, love?).

And finally:

1. It just didn’t make sense for me, practically. I had a creeping sense that I was following a bread-crumb trail of some knowledge not meant for me; that God had already given me the right religion; that He didn’t require me to go down a million Internet rabbit holes to find the true Faith. (YouTube really shouldn’t be where we get our religious formation.) I have a Christian husband and four little Christian children, and a great church near me. And there’s actually a scene in the Quran where some Jews come up to Muhammad and ask him to judge some conflict for them, and he points at the Torah and basically says: “that’s your judge!, why’d you come to me?” So… even Muslims believe that the Bible is a set of instructions from God for the Christian people. It just led me to believe that I already had found the right religion.

I don’t think it should be that difficult. I don’t think God requires us to jump through a million hoops to worship Him correctly. Catholicism is the universal religion, it’s literally everywhere, in every culture.

Sometimes I really think the Internet is a curse. We know too much. The internet is undoing the fall of the Tower of Babel. There are no more language/culture barriers. We need those. Humans aren’t designed to have that much free access to knowledge. Some things, we shouldn’t know about. Some things are dangerous for us to learn about.

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I’m not going to be like one of those Christian polemicists who goes on screaming about how Islam is satanic. I don’t know for sure if it is. It has a lot of things going for it, but also some major problems. All I know is, I intend to remain Catholic.

So, that’s my take for now. This whole experience has caused me to completely lose any amount of confidence that I had in myself, as a religious person, tbh, so, I hope I will never wander even a single theoretical hypothetical inch from Catholicism again, and never intend to, but I’m such an idiot that who’s to say. Maybe I’ll get seduced by the Ba’hai Faith next. 🙄 Good grief. We really are such fickle and stupid creatures, humans. So anyway, I’m back now, still Catholic, still weird, still filling up your WordPress feed with my nonsense.
three things that i love

September 2nd, 2026

1. randomly out of the blue remembering a song that you used to love but haven’t even thought about in like 15 years and then finding it again and it slaps harder than ever

2. art that makes you feel personally intimately familiar with a place you’ve never actually visited

3. the fact that music is not haram for Christians
“Eat Healthy”

August 31st, 2026

Daily writing prompt
What’s a conspiracy theory you actually find believable?
View all responses

The older I get, the less trusting I am in general. Like, all through my twenties and into my early thirties, I felt pretty sure that the government genuinely had our best interests at heart — why wouldn’t they want the best for all citizens?! They themselves are citizens, after all — and that their recommendations could be trusted.

Ha! Things are a bit different now.

There are a number of conspiracy theories that I find believable, now, which most of you would probably laugh at because “science,” but really, isn’t “believing the science” just as much a matter of faith as religion? I’ve never seen an atom or been to outer space. I wasn’t there at the dawn of life on earth. I’m just taking The Scientists’ word for it.

But one of these theories in particular, I’ve been dwelling on a lot in recent months, and I have become increasingly convinced of its truth. The theory is: people, especially poor people, are being actively, deliberately poisoned via our food supply.

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I remember some time ago hearing about someone who believed that popular, mainstram nutritional recommendations were BS. That all of the “eat fruits and vegetables!”, “fresh produce is the best thing for you!” advice, which is drilled into our heads from infancy, was propaganda and lies. That the “Food Pyramid” / “MyPlate” stuff, which encourages eating mostly vegetables and fruits, was an evil government scheme to make people unhealthy.

Hearing about this person’s outlandish conspiracy theory, I laughed. “That’s ridiculous,” I thought. “That’s crazy! Everyone knows fruits and veg are the best foods for your health. The Science says so.”

But a seed had been planted in my mind, and I couldn’t forget about it.

As you guys know, for a while now I’ve been researching and reconsidering the whole vaccine issue, and have concluded that the antivax position is more compelling than I originally thought. That’s a different story though. I bring it up because, in researching vaccines, I learned about “Big Pharma” and the fact that they are the ones funding most of these “studies” that have pro-vaccine findings. How chronic health conditions from our food and drugs lead to people’s further dependence on Big Pharma for more drugs. It’s all for proft. I learned how the billionaires benefit from us being sickly.

And at the same time, as new parents, my husband I began paying more attention to the national grocery recall alerts, in order to stay apprised of what was safe to buy for our kids. Every day, another recall, another contaminated item on the shelves.

Most of it, fresh fruits and vegetables.

Apparently regulating the cleanliness of the farms that grow our food supply is just not that important to the folks in charge… or, could it be that are they doing this on purpose?

Because here’s the other thing about produce. Unless you shell out for organic, which is easily more than twice the price (and can you really trust that little “organic” label, anyway?), so prohibitively expensive for poor people… you’re inevitably ingesting all kinds of toxic pesticides. And you can’t just wash them off, no matter how long you scrub or soak, or with what cleaning materials. (“However much you’re doing,” a former farm employee told my husband, “it’s not enough.”)

I’ve been reading a lot about these pesticides and their effects. Everything from cancer and thyroid disease to early onset of puberty in girls — which is in itself linked to myriad physical and mental health issues.

Early puberty (which I addressed in this post) is a huge problem and it’s getting worse. I read that in the days of early humans, girls didn’t menstruate until like 18-19. More recently in history, it was 14-15. Nowadays, it’s like 11, creeping ever lower.

And it’s because of our food.

Which was so enlightening for me to learn, because as a religious person I always wondered why God would design girls so that they attained physical maturity years before psychological/emotional maturity. I know not to question God’s design, but that seems like a questionable choice.

But then I leaned: He didn’t!! This screwed-up arrangement, which damages our health and our society in a number of ways, is a result of our gross toxic diet.

And even those of us who eat obsessively healthy, shelling out for organic everything, can’t avoid these effects entirely, because these toxins are everywhere. They’re in our environment. They’re in our bodies. Flame retardants in breastmilk. Microplastics in the placenta. It’s true. We’re so cooked, y’all.

And where do we find most of these harmful pesticides, but on fresh produce: the very food that Big Government keeps pushing us to consume more of.

And here’s further evidence that this war is being waged against poor people specifically. WIC, the program that provides food for low-income pregnant women and little kids, provides mostly what kind of foods?: fruits and vegetables. Also, non-organic, low-fat and fat-free dairy — some of the absolute worst food for you, hormonally, full of bovine sex hormones. This is what the government wants you to eat. (The packet WIC gives you specifically reads “Do not buy organic.”) Also, they give you a metric ton of dry cereal, like a boatload of dry cereal, which we all know is highly processed and straight trash for your health, just one big blood sugar spike in a box. Oh, and don’t get me started on the jarred baby foods!

Not saying the government is obligated to give us organic groceries or anything! That would be entitled and absurd, and is not what I believe at all! I’m just pointing out that this is what they are encouraging, in the nutrition counseling that they offer to these poor young families; these are the only kinds of foods that are available to low-income people; WIC is concrete evidence of that.

It’s only rich folks who can afford organic. What are poor folks to do? Growing and raising your own food seems like the only option, if you want to feed your family safely — but who can afford all that land and livestock, not to mention organic feed for said livestock? Answer: only rich people. Poor folks can’t win. There’s no way around it. Literally, it’s be poisoned, or starve. This is probably why poor folks have lower life expectancy.

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So yeah, I no longer think that one person’s claims were so crazy or ridiculous. I don’t think it’s true that “fruits and vegetables are unhealthy,” per se — as a vegetarian who loves vegetables and fruit, I know how good it feels to include a lot of them in one’s diet, and surely they provide a lot of micronutrients! — but in America, for most of us, they are toxic and a major health hazard, because of all the contaminants.

The government knows this perfectly well, and probably has all along, yet they continue to let poorly-regulated, contaminated, toxin-laden produce onto the grocery store shelves — and to pressure us, especially the poorest among us, to buy them.

I’m don’t even identify as a “crunchy mom.” I vaccinate, I take Tylenol, I wear Bath & Body Works, and all of my babies were born in a hospital. But imo it’s become painfully obvious that we, the lower classes, are being poisoned by the big food and drug corporations, and we’re pretty powerless to do anything about it.
TOP 10: Things I’ve learned about Islam that made me, a TradCath, go “Huh, That’s Interesting”

August 9th, 2026
Let me be clear: I am NOT converting away from Catholicism! Nor will I ever be! Why would I go anywhere else when John 6:53 and we literally have the Mass right here. This post is NOT meant to be ecumenical in any way, in fact I’m pretty sure ecumenism is heresy and I don’t want to touch that with a ten-foot pole.

No, but recently my husband and I were watching Jeopardy!, and there was a clue about Islam, and, as someone who’s interested in religion and philosophy in general, I began to think: “ya know, I don’t really actually know much about Islam at all. What do they even believe?”

Thus began an absolutely fascinating internet rabbit hole adventure that kept me up too late and made my husband wonder why I was “brushing my teeth” in the bathroom for 45 minutes.

Keep in mind: I can’t attest to the veracity of many of these claims, as my knowledge of Islam is pretty much limited to what I absorbed in forty-five minutes on YouTube while brushing my teeth. I have never even touched a copy of the Quran, and don’t personally know any Muslims; for all I know, many of these statements could be completely made-up; you can’t believe everything you hear on the internet, after all.

Regardless, the following concepts made me go “Huh!, that’s interesting”:

10. They apparently have clear rules written down right there in their book that tell them precisely how to go about every moment of their daily lives, in black and white terms. Wow! As someone who lacks an innate sense of balance when it comes to living a religious life, I can see how this would be extremely helpful. Sometimes I wish we Christians had such clear instructions. In Christianity there’s more left up for personal interpretation, which is cool, because not everyone is living the same life nor has the same disposition, and God meets us where we are. However, I also think it must be nice to be told in very plain terms exactly what you may and may not do, and when.

9. Gender relations. Three particular details in this category blew my mind:
- (a) apparently, women and men who are friends are not allowed to deliberately touch each other at all — they can’t even shake hands when meeting. Wow! Is it just me, or does that actually feel… extremely natural and right?! Like, tbh I always feel a bit strange when I’m introduced to a (straight) man and am expected to shake his hand. Like, um, isn’t that hand for your wife?? Like, I know what you do with that hand, and I know what straight men’s brains are like, sir, so please refrain from touching me. Only my husband gets to do that. I’ve always felt a bit neurotic and prudish for feeling this way, but evidently it’s not just me, it’s a tenet of a major world religion. Huh! I wouldn’t mind if this became a social norm in the West.
- (b) In their churches — ahem, mosques, I guess — men and women often assemble in separate areas of the space. Segregation. This is also something that some more traditional Christian churches do, and I think it’s a cool practice, reminding us that men & women are different and should be treated as such.
- (c) According to one video I watched, Muslim women aren’t even technically required to attend Friday prayer service!, just strongly encouraged. Wow! To me this is so interesting; while I certainly don’t disagree with the universal Sunday obligation for all Catholics, I actually don’t think it’s such a bad idea either for the expectations to be different for men and women. I’ve talked on here before about how hard it is on Catholic women to discern when they are required to go to Mass vs when they have a legitimate reason not to (pregnancy nausea, parenting littles, etc.), and it causes a lot of anguish for us. I feel like attendance being “strongly recommended” instead of “required but with exceptions” might create less stress for women (also, apparently Muslim women aren’t supposed to formally pray while on their period?!, which, ya know what, I kinda can get on board with, as I, like most women, suffer a lot and can’t be expected to do much of anything, at least not very well, on certain days of the month).
8. Modesty standards are on point. I already mentioned in my post on women’s fashion that I personally think Islamic modesty standards for women are awesome; but here’s a chance for me to rant about it again! The Islamic definition of modesty makes way more sense than the Western one. Like, I will never understand how fitted clothes can be considered “modest;” it’s so dumb to me to see these Christian girl influencers, all with their long, beautiful hair out, posing in tight little showy outfits that they claim are “modest” just because they cover a certain amount of skin. Something that hugs the shape of your body may be beautiful and all, but it really can’t be called modest. Likewise, a little sheer lace mantilla that decorates your hair rather than covering it — I wear one because it’s normal here, but I don’t think it exactly qualifies as “modest,” technically. Showing off your figure and/or your hair isn’t modest. People be like “modesty can be sexy!”, but I’m of the opinion that “modest” and “sexy” are mutually exclusive. However, you can be both modest and pretty, which much Islamic fashion is. (And please don’t @ me telling me I “don’t get it” about modesty — I understand just fine how for some people, “modesty” means dressing in a way that honors your natural, God-given beauty without flaunting anything or drawing undue attention to yourself. I just think it’s also clear that a woman dressing this way is still subjecting herself to the male gaze, which is her decision and I’m not saying she shouldn’t be able to choose that; within reason, people can dress however they want; it just seems like this can’t properly be called “modesty.”)

I’m not done yet! Catholic women like to talk about “Marian dress” as a modesty standard, but seem not to notice that in images of Mother Mary, she’s always got her hair covered and is draped in long, forgiving, loose-fitting garments that conceal her body, like a Muslim woman. And I take issue with the accusation that shapeless, loose-fitting clothes for women are “lazy and frumpy.” I 100% would wear a niqab, or at least a hijab (because let’s be real, we all know hair is one of the most, if not the most, eye-catching and distinguishing features of a person (what’s the first way most amateur authors describe a character’s physical appearance?), and can often make or break a person’s sexiness; no point pretending hair is a sexually neutral feature like an elbow or a nose), if it were socially acceptable for a white Catholic woman in America. The less I can be perceived and visually assessed — the freer I can be from the prison of the male gaze — the happier I am!

7. Cleanliness standards also on point. Apparently, Muslims are required to wash themselves before praying — it’s called “wudu,” or ablutions. Even their feet! Wow. I think it’s kind of cool — of course we want to come before God as free of the stains and stink of the world as possible. “Cleanliness is next to Godliness,” as the saying goes. We Western Whites, who (according to r/Hygiene, at least) have a reputation for being the stinkiest people, could perhaps do well to consider this concept of cleanliness/hygiene as not just practical but spiritual. Fascinating.

6. Very clear rules about music. Oh my goodness, how much easier my little life would be if we Catholics had our own version of “haram” and “halal” labels, which apparently apply to music and media as well as food. If I didn’t have to bother agonizing over what’s okay to listen to, didn’t have to bother with the hard work of discerning and reflecting and examining my conscience — if there were a clear, black-and-white “this music is forbidden” — how much easier that would be! Obviously I get why we here in the West don’t feel the need for such labels, and I love the beauty in that — important things are rarely easy, after all — but also, there are times when I feel like some strict black-and-white rules would be really helpful and make life easier. Would help those of us who suck at discerning. You know: a system that caters to the lowest common denominator, and all (it’s me, I’m the lowest common denominator).

5. Similarly, the rules about food. I’m vegetarian anyway, and I’m all for a system of dietary laws. There absolutely should be restrictions on the manner in which animals can be slaughtered for meat, and, if we absolutely must slaughter animals, there should be a spiritual element to their slaughtering. Otherwise it’s just selfish and brutal. Muslims and Jewish folks are way ahead of us on this one!

4. And, continuing in that same vein, the Islamic rules for fasting are way more clear and easy to follow, imo, than the Catholic ones. The whole “if necessary you may have two mini meals that together don’t add up to one meal” — what even is that?! I’m so weird about food and “meals” that I honestly don’t even know how to apply this one in my own life. Simply not ingesting anything until sundown makes so much more sense and is so much easier to follow, as well as feeling more like true fasting. I don’t suppose there’s anything wrong with me stealing this method to use during penitential seasons.

3. Prayer positions. I saw one video where an imam was explaining why Muslims bow and prostrate themselves in prayer. It elevates the heart above the brain, demonstrating complete submission of the will and intellect. Isn’t that interesting?! I know Orthodox Christians do bowing and prostration too. We Catholics prefer kneeling upright, which I personally prefer because sticking your butt in the air is embarrassing imo. The only time I see a prostrate position during Catholic ritual is at ordinations to the Priesthood, and then they lay flat on their faces, so it’s a bit different. I kind of like this physical gesture, in theory, though. Humans are both soul and body after all, the two irrevocably intertwined (as much as I hate to admit it, given my issues with my body, lol!), and it makes sense to pray with our body too. “As we believe, so we pray,” said one of the Sisters who taught my kids’ Catechism class; I feel like elevating the heart above the head for prayer is kind of a cool example of that.

2. Specific, mandated prayer times! Again, for an undisciplined, forgetful, lazy, unstable, and irrational-minded person like myself, having mandatory prayer times sounds extremely helpful! “Figure it out for yourself”/ “do it whenever works for you” is pretty unhelpful, for me, who didn’t grow up religious and has struggled to figure out how to be so. Better Catholics with more discipline probably can’t relate, but, I kinda love the idea of pre-scheduled prayer times being non-negotiable.

1. Emphasis on our enslavement to God (“Allah”) rather than God as our loving Heavenly Father. Interesting! Obviously, I believe God is our loving Heavenly Father — Jesus Himself said so. I also think that many Christians in the modern West would do well to remember that He isn’t just our friendly “Daddy God” (🤮) but infinitely greater than we are, and has no need of us, and that He has no obligation to make sense to us or to make us happy. Like I said, I haven’t read the Quran, so I can’t really say much on how Muslims feel about Allah in comparison to how we feel about God, but, I just heard this difference briefly explained in a video, and I can appreciate this POV; it’s a helpful reminder for anyone of any religion, I should think.

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So yeah, like I said, I’m not interested in converting or anything — why would I be — I just think these elements of their belief system are super interesting, and there are some elements that I think I’d even like to borrow and apply to a Catholic lifestyle. Which, as far as I can tell, is not an ecumenical/heretical thing to say, and I hope I haven’t accidentally sinned anywhere in this post. This was just a fun little learning adventure for little old me, is all, and rather enlightening to see some of the similarities and differences between this other religion/culture and my own, that might actually help me be a better Catholic.