sim-ply-lilacs
Call me irresponsible
Currently playing the decades challenge: generation 1
85 posts
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Keeping the answers simple to get the best results, but feel free to elaborate your answer in the replies/tags.
Reblogs would be appreciated.
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Been wondering ‘bout this since I went from strictly storytelling, to mostly gameplay sims blogging, but…
Feel free to reblog, and share your feelings in the tags.
#ive had some computer issues and i havent been able to play so i havent wanted to keep updating with the screenshots i DO have#bc i really want to play!!! but trying to sort out whats wrong and paring back my cc even more?! just...so frustrating#but im going to work on it!#i miss the moodys and their baby so much :(
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Hey all.
With the news that Tumblr isn't doing so hot, I'm going to start posting my decades challenge on Instagram as well. I'll be slowly copying the same post I have on here over there. That way, whatever happens, the Moody legacy will continue. I know it's been a minute since I posted but life had been rough (especially healthwise). I hope to be posting both here and on Instagram asap. Here's hoping this is just another scare in Tumblr's history and we don't actually go down. You can follow me @sim_ply_lilacs on Instagram. The profile pic is the same as my icon on here. Whatever happens, I'm glad to have known you all. I hope you're enjoying my little story, and everything I have to come.
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I love this!!! Here's me 😊
Tagging anyone who wants to play!
from this tag game using this little guy maker.
thank you for the tag @moonfromearth! <3 it was so cute my orange [cat was actually laying next to me asleep while i made this and i was so happy to see that option.
i'll tag @antiquatedplumbobs, @aheathen-conceivably @carousel-of-sims @vampire-plays-sims & anyone else who wants to do it, just say i tagged you!
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Oooh either Undoer of Knots or Star of the Sea
Please reblog with your favorite Marian title and/or image!!
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My sister got me Horse Ranch for my birthday, which means I got that needed creative jolt and THE MOODY LEGACY IS BACK IN PRODUCTION, BAYBEEEEEEE
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me: i’m so excited to play the sims!!
me: *downloads cc for three hours*
me: that was so fun i love the sims
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Dear Irene,
I once again renew my efforts to draw you all to Brindleton Bay. If you and Seamus won't come for the good earth, clean air, and wholesome community, then come for me, your dearest friend. I so miss having you near! Would that life were as simple as when we were young, and I might stop over at yours for a cup of tea and a friendly chat on a whim. Especially now, as I am not able to make my way around Brindleton and Henford to do the marketing and meet with the ladies at church as easily as I used to. I can only imagine how strenuous I will find the tasks when my time comes nearer!
You will be gratified, I'm sure, to hear Josef has been marvelous in helping me in my current weakened state. I've never met a man more excited to become a father! Ever since I returned from the midwife and told him my news, he has spent all his waking hours either working the fields where I flatter myself to think he feels acutely the loss of my help, or working to improve the house for us. What was our bedroom has been split into a stairwell and a wee room for our newcomer. Our room, meanwhile, has been relocated to our brand-new second floor. It is a bit sparse, but it is more private, and it is ours! Of course, I was horribly emotional to think that the room I came to as a bride no longer exists, but I was calmed at the thought that we are doing well enough on the farm to afford these improvements.
Lest you think we are all work and no play, I will tell you how we have been spending our evenings lately. Mother is spending more and more time with her mysterious friend, and Josef and I find ourselves alone more and more. I adore Mother, truly, but I don't think I need to tell you how nice it is to have one's home and husband to oneself.
He dotes on me, my darling man. Josef is always touching me, pulling me close when no one is looking, placing a hand at my back when I am cooking our dinner, and especially caressing my (ever-growing) stomach. It seems so odd to say, but I don't believe he's ever been so in love with me as he is right now!
He is more impatient for Baby to arrive than I am, even. He pulled his father's violin out of storage and is teaching himself to play. Baby and I are his nightly audience. He is improving, but I confess I am hoping that my little passenger does not yet have ears. Other nights, he listens to me plod my way through children's piano books. We were gifted a dear, shabby old thing by a family moving back to the old country, and Mother and Josef were kind enough to fix the old thing up for me, so I might have something other than reading, knitting, and embroidery to occupy my time when I am too tired for much other than sitting.
One evening, though, we were occupying ourselves with none of these things. We couldn't seem to settle down to anything, not even to sitting ourselves on the couch. You would have teased me terribly for how sentimental we were being, caught up in the realm of fairies and fancies. He told me all about the plans he's making for our child. He wants to put away money whenever we might squirrel some away to give Baby and any more children we might have the chance for the kind of education we both dreamt of but never had the chance for ourselves.
I confessed that I love feeling Baby move. She is so little that Josef cannot yet feel much, but her little flutters are a near constant presence during my day—and yes, I am convinced that Baby is a she. Call it mother's intuition if you like, but I am certain about this. Josef teases me that this means we will certainly have twin boys, but of course I will love any children we are blessed with. Even if my pride will smart horribly if I am wrong!
We talked long into the night that evening, as we often do on Saturday nights when we plan to go to the late morning Mass the next day. The one thing we avoid talking about are the dangers to come. I am not so naive that I do not know how perilous what lies ahead may be. Mother lost many of her own before I was born safely, and almost lost her life when I was born. I have helped at my fair share of births, as well. You and I both have seen childbeds where mother or baby or both leave the grieving father behind. I try not to catastrophize for Josef's sake. He has already lost so much.
Still, in my happiness, I must plan for the worst. If...if it does happen, and I do not survive, please send the notes I have enclosed alongside my letter to you for Josef, Mother, and Baby, so they have something from me. I cannot shake the feeling that something may yet go wrong. The town midwife is capable, and I am young and strong, so hopefully this is all for nothing, and when you and Seamus and the children come out after the baby is born you will laugh at me and all my silliness.
To resume what I was writing about before that little sadness, I confess that I'm rather desperate for all the plans we talked of that night to come true. I would not change the life I share with Josef on Idyllwind Farm for anything, save maybe if Mr. Edison would see fit to run some of his incandescent lamps out our way, and we might no longer have to rely on our kerosene lamps and candles to light the way. Waking up next to this man, working on this farm, being with our animals and my mother and our neighbors and friends, feeling our child kick within me, living in my beloved Bay, I know my life has turned out the way it was always meant to.
And yet...and yet I don't want my child to feel compelled to follow in my footsteps.
I have chosen my life, and that is why I love it. My situation when Father died was less than desirable, but I could have searched again for work in town, I could have joined a convent, I could have forced Mother to come out west with me and taught at that school. I chose Josef, and I choose him every day. If this baby wants to work the land, then I will celebrate that this farm will stay in the family. If Baby wants to teach, then she will teach. If she wants to go to university, or join a convent, or be a tailor, then I want her to be able to have those things. Life is so much sweeter when you do what you are made for.
Well! That is all for this very, very long letter, my friend. Write me soon, and do tell me that you and Seamus will at least consider leaving that awful city behind and join us out in the Bay. I have included a few newspaper clippings for your perusal. One is the account of a concert of Mr. Dvořák's music, which the artist himself attended, where a man got up in the middle of a piece and loudly complained and what transpired hence which I found amusing. Josef read it aloud to me and had me beside myself with his performance. I have copied it down for myself, so I leave you the original clipping. Another is the obituary for Father, as I have finally acquired an extra copy for you. Finally, a listing for a farm near here. Do consider it, both of you! Josef and I have been to see the property and the cabin is sound, if small. Josef says the earth there is good, and there is ample space for the children to run around, and a good schoolhouse to boot—and it is only a half mile's walk from Idyllwind Farm. There! I have said my bit! Do give my love to Seamus and the children, and write back soon. I eagerly await your response.
All my love,
Bea
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Dear Irene,
I once again renew my efforts to draw you all to Brindleton Bay. If you and Seamus won't come for the good earth, clean air, and wholesome community, then come for me, your dearest friend. I so miss having you near! Would that life were as simple as when we were young, and I might stop over at yours for a cup of tea and a friendly chat on a whim. Especially now, as I am not able to make my way around Brindleton and Henford to do the marketing and meet with the ladies at church as easily as I used to. I can only imagine how strenuous I will find the tasks when my time comes nearer!
You will be gratified, I'm sure, to hear Josef has been marvelous in helping me in my current weakened state. I've never met a man more excited to become a father! Ever since I returned from the midwife and told him my news, he has spent all his waking hours either working the fields where I flatter myself to think he feels acutely the loss of my help, or working to improve the house for us. What was our bedroom has been split into a stairwell and a wee room for our newcomer. Our room, meanwhile, has been relocated to our brand-new second floor. It is a bit sparse, but it is more private, and it is ours! Of course, I was horribly emotional to think that the room I came to as a bride no longer exists, but I was calmed at the thought that we are doing well enough on the farm to afford these improvements.
Lest you think we are all work and no play, I will tell you how we have been spending our evenings lately. Mother is spending more and more time with her mysterious friend, and Josef and I find ourselves alone more and more. I adore Mother, truly, but I don't think I need to tell you how nice it is to have one's home and husband to oneself.
He dotes on me, my darling man. Josef is always touching me, pulling me close when no one is looking, placing a hand at my back when I am cooking our dinner, and especially caressing my (ever-growing) stomach. It seems so odd to say, but I don't believe he's ever been so in love with me as he is right now!
He is more impatient for Baby to arrive than I am, even. He pulled his father's violin out of storage and is teaching himself to play. Baby and I are his nightly audience. He is improving, but I confess I am hoping that my little passenger does not yet have ears. Other nights, he listens to me plod my way through children's piano books. We were gifted a dear, shabby old thing by a family moving back to the old country, and Mother and Josef were kind enough to fix the old thing up for me, so I might have something other than reading, knitting, and embroidery to occupy my time when I am too tired for much other than sitting.
One evening, though, we were occupying ourselves with none of these things. We couldn't seem to settle down to anything, not even to sitting ourselves on the couch. You would have teased me terribly for how sentimental we were being, caught up in the realm of fairies and fancies. He told me all about the plans he's making for our child. He wants to put away money whenever we might squirrel some away to give Baby and any more children we might have the chance for the kind of education we both dreamt of but never had the chance for ourselves.
I confessed that I love feeling Baby move. She is so little that Josef cannot yet feel much, but her little flutters are a near constant presence during my day—and yes, I am convinced that Baby is a she. Call it mother's intuition if you like, but I am certain about this. Josef teases me that this means we will certainly have twin boys, but of course I will love any children we are blessed with. Even if my pride will smart horribly if I am wrong!
We talked long into the night that evening, as we often do on Saturday nights when we plan to go to the late morning Mass the next day. The one thing we avoid talking about are the dangers to come. I am not so naive that I do not know how perilous what lies ahead may be. Mother lost many of her own before I was born safely, and almost lost her life when I was born. I have helped at my fair share of births, as well. You and I both have seen childbeds where mother or baby or both leave the grieving father behind. I try not to catastrophize for Josef's sake. He has already lost so much.
Still, in my happiness, I must plan for the worst. If...if it does happen, and I do not survive, please send the notes I have enclosed alongside my letter to you for Josef, Mother, and Baby, so they have something from me. I cannot shake the feeling that something may yet go wrong. The town midwife is capable, and I am young and strong, so hopefully this is all for nothing, and when you and Seamus and the children come out after the baby is born you will laugh at me and all my silliness.
To resume what I was writing about before that little sadness, I confess that I'm rather desperate for all the plans we talked of that night to come true. I would not change the life I share with Josef on Idyllwind Farm for anything, save maybe if Mr. Edison would see fit to run some of his incandescent lamps out our way, and we might no longer have to rely on our kerosene lamps and candles to light the way. Waking up next to this man, working on this farm, being with our animals and my mother and our neighbors and friends, feeling our child kick within me, living in my beloved Bay, I know my life has turned out the way it was always meant to.
And yet...and yet I don't want my child to feel compelled to follow in my footsteps.
I have chosen my life, and that is why I love it. My situation when Father died was less than desirable, but I could have searched again for work in town, I could have joined a convent, I could have forced Mother to come out west with me and taught at that school. I chose Josef, and I choose him every day. If this baby wants to work the land, then I will celebrate that this farm will stay in the family. If Baby wants to teach, then she will teach. If she wants to go to university, or join a convent, or be a tailor, then I want her to be able to have those things. Life is so much sweeter when you do what you are made for.
Well! That is all for this very, very long letter, my friend. Write me soon, and do tell me that you and Seamus will at least consider leaving that awful city behind and join us out in the Bay. I have included a few newspaper clippings for your perusal. One is the account of a concert of Mr. Dvořák's music, which the artist himself attended, where a man got up in the middle of a piece and loudly complained and what transpired hence which I found amusing. Josef read it aloud to me and had me beside myself with his performance. I have copied it down for myself, so I leave you the original clipping. Another is the obituary for Father, as I have finally acquired an extra copy for you. Finally, a listing for a farm near here. Do consider it, both of you! Josef and I have been to see the property and the cabin is sound, if small. Josef says the earth there is good, and there is ample space for the children to run around, and a good schoolhouse to boot—and it is only a half mile's walk from Idyllwind Farm. There! I have said my bit! Do give my love to Seamus and the children, and write back soon. I eagerly await your response.
All my love,
Bea
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Dear Irene,
I once again renew my efforts to draw you all to Brindleton Bay. If you and Seamus won't come for the good earth, clean air, and wholesome community, then come for me, your dearest friend. I so miss having you near! Would that life were as simple as when we were young, and I might stop over at yours for a cup of tea and a friendly chat on a whim. Especially now, as I am not able to make my way around Brindleton and Henford to do the marketing and meet with the ladies at church as easily as I used to. I can only imagine how strenuous I will find the tasks when my time comes nearer!
You will be gratified, I'm sure, to hear Josef has been marvelous in helping me in my current weakened state. I've never met a man more excited to become a father! Ever since I returned from the midwife and told him my news, he has spent all his waking hours either working the fields where I flatter myself to think he feels acutely the loss of my help, or working to improve the house for us. What was our bedroom has been split into a stairwell and a wee room for our newcomer. Our room, meanwhile, has been relocated to our brand-new second floor. It is a bit sparse, but it is more private, and it is ours! Of course, I was horribly emotional to think that the room I came to as a bride no longer exists, but I was calmed at the thought that we are doing well enough on the farm to afford these improvements.
Lest you think we are all work and no play, I will tell you how we have been spending our evenings lately. Mother is spending more and more time with her mysterious friend, and Josef and I find ourselves alone more and more. I adore Mother, truly, but I don't think I need to tell you how nice it is to have one's home and husband to oneself.
He dotes on me, my darling man. Josef is always touching me, pulling me close when no one is looking, placing a hand at my back when I am cooking our dinner, and especially caressing my (ever-growing) stomach. It seems so odd to say, but I don't believe he's ever been so in love with me as he is right now!
He is more impatient for Baby to arrive than I am, even. He pulled his father's violin out of storage and is teaching himself to play. Baby and I are his nightly audience. He is improving, but I confess I am hoping that my little passenger does not yet have ears. Other nights, he listens to me plod my way through children's piano books. We were gifted a dear, shabby old thing by a family moving back to the old country, and Mother and Josef were kind enough to fix the old thing up for me, so I might have something other than reading, knitting, and embroidery to occupy my time when I am too tired for much other than sitting.
One evening, though, we were occupying ourselves with none of these things. We couldn't seem to settle down to anything, not even to sitting ourselves on the couch. You would have teased me terribly for how sentimental we were being, caught up in the realm of fairies and fancies. He told me all about the plans he's making for our child. He wants to put away money whenever we might squirrel some away to give Baby and any more children we might have the chance for the kind of education we both dreamt of but never had the chance for ourselves.
I confessed that I love feeling Baby move. She is so little that Josef cannot yet feel much, but her little flutters are a near constant presence during my day—and yes, I am convinced that Baby is a she. Call it mother's intuition if you like, but I am certain about this. Josef teases me that this means we will certainly have twin boys, but of course I will love any children we are blessed with. Even if my pride will smart horribly if I am wrong!
We talked long into the night that evening, as we often do on Saturday nights when we plan to go to the late morning Mass the next day. The one thing we avoid talking about are the dangers to come. I am not so naive that I do not know how perilous what lies ahead may be. Mother lost many of her own before I was born safely, and almost lost her life when I was born. I have helped at my fair share of births, as well. You and I both have seen childbeds where mother or baby or both leave the grieving father behind. I try not to catastrophize for Josef's sake. He has already lost so much.
Still, in my happiness, I must plan for the worst. If...if it does happen, and I do not survive, please send the notes I have enclosed alongside my letter to you for Josef, Mother, and Baby, so they have something from me. I cannot shake the feeling that something may yet go wrong. The town midwife is capable, and I am young and strong, so hopefully this is all for nothing, and when you and Seamus and the children come out after the baby is born you will laugh at me and all my silliness.
To resume what I was writing about before that little sadness, I confess that I'm rather desperate for all the plans we talked of that night to come true. I would not change the life I share with Josef on Idyllwind Farm for anything, save maybe if Mr. Edison would see fit to run some of his incandescent lamps out our way, and we might no longer have to rely on our kerosene lamps and candles to light the way. Waking up next to this man, working on this farm, being with our animals and my mother and our neighbors and friends, feeling our child kick within me, living in my beloved Bay, I know my life has turned out the way it was always meant to.
And yet...and yet I don't want my child to feel compelled to follow in my footsteps.
I have chosen my life, and that is why I love it. My situation when Father died was less than desirable, but I could have searched again for work in town, I could have joined a convent, I could have forced Mother to come out west with me and taught at that school. I chose Josef, and I choose him every day. If this baby wants to work the land, then I will celebrate that this farm will stay in the family. If Baby wants to teach, then she will teach. If she wants to go to university, or join a convent, or be a tailor, then I want her to be able to have those things. Life is so much sweeter when you do what you are made for.
Well! That is all for this very, very long letter, my friend. Write me soon, and do tell me that you and Seamus will at least consider leaving that awful city behind and join us out in the Bay. I have included a few newspaper clippings for your perusal. One is the account of a concert of Mr. Dvořák's music, which the artist himself attended, where a man got up in the middle of a piece and loudly complained and what transpired hence which I found amusing. Josef read it aloud to me and had me beside myself with his performance. I have copied it down for myself, so I leave you the original clipping. Another is the obituary for Father, as I have finally acquired an extra copy for you. Finally, a listing for a farm near here. Do consider it, both of you! Josef and I have been to see the property and the cabin is sound, if small. Josef says the earth there is good, and there is ample space for the children to run around, and a good schoolhouse to boot—and it is only a half mile's walk from Idyllwind Farm. There! I have said my bit! Do give my love to Seamus and the children, and write back soon. I eagerly await your response.
All my love,
Bea
Prev ~ Next ~ Beginning
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dear Irene,
I once again renew my efforts to draw you all to Brindleton Bay. If you and Seamus won't come for the good earth, clean air, and wholesome community, then come for me, your dearest friend. I so miss having you near! Would that life were as simple as when we were young, and I might stop over at yours for a cup of tea and a friendly chat on a whim. Especially now, as I am not able to make my way around Brindleton and Henford to do the marketing and meet with the ladies at church as easily as I used to. I can only imagine how strenuous I will find the tasks when my time comes nearer!
You will be gratified, I'm sure, to hear Josef has been marvelous in helping me in my current weakened state. I've never met a man more excited to become a father! Ever since I returned from the midwife and told him my news, he has spent all his waking hours either working the fields where I flatter myself to think he feels acutely the loss of my help, or working to improve the house for us. What was our bedroom has been split into a stairwell and a wee room for our newcomer. Our room, meanwhile, has been relocated to our brand-new second floor. It is a bit sparse, but it is more private, and it is ours! Of course, I was horribly emotional to think that the room I came to as a bride no longer exists, but I was calmed at the thought that we are doing well enough on the farm to afford these improvements.
Lest you think we are all work and no play, I will tell you how we have been spending our evenings lately. Mother is spending more and more time with her mysterious friend, and Josef and I find ourselves alone more and more. I adore Mother, truly, but I don't think I need to tell you how nice it is to have one's home and husband to oneself.
He dotes on me, my darling man. Josef is always touching me, pulling me close when no one is looking, placing a hand at my back when I am cooking our dinner, and especially caressing my (ever-growing) stomach. It seems so odd to say, but I don't believe he's ever been so in love with me as he is right now!
He is more impatient for Baby to arrive than I am, even. He pulled his father's violin out of storage and is teaching himself to play. Baby and I are his nightly audience. He is improving, but I confess I am hoping that my little passenger does not yet have ears. Other nights, he listens to me plod my way through children's piano books. We were gifted a dear, shabby old thing by a family moving back to the old country, and Mother and Josef were kind enough to fix the old thing up for me, so I might have something other than reading, knitting, and embroidery to occupy my time when I am too tired for much other than sitting.
One evening, though, we were occupying ourselves with none of these things. We couldn't seem to settle down to anything, not even to sitting ourselves on the couch. You would have teased me terribly for how sentimental we were being, caught up in the realm of fairies and fancies. He told me all about the plans he's making for our child. He wants to put away money whenever we might squirrel some away to give Baby and any more children we might have the chance for the kind of education we both dreamt of but never had the chance for ourselves.
I confessed that I love feeling Baby move. She is so little that Josef cannot yet feel much, but her little flutters are a near constant presence during my day—and yes, I am convinced that Baby is a she. Call it mother's intuition if you like, but I am certain about this. Josef teases me that this means we will certainly have twin boys, but of course I will love any children we are blessed with. Even if my pride will smart horribly if I am wrong!
We talked long into the night that evening, as we often do on Saturday nights when we plan to go to the late morning Mass the next day. The one thing we avoid talking about are the dangers to come. I am not so naive that I do not know how perilous what lies ahead may be. Mother lost many of her own before I was born safely, and almost lost her life when I was born. I have helped at my fair share of births, as well. You and I both have seen childbeds where mother or baby or both leave the grieving father behind. I try not to catastrophize for Josef's sake. He has already lost so much.
Still, in my happiness, I must plan for the worst. If...if it does happen, and I do not survive, please send the notes I have enclosed alongside my letter to you for Josef, Mother, and Baby, so they have something from me. I cannot shake the feeling that something may yet go wrong. The town midwife is capable, and I am young and strong, so hopefully this is all for nothing, and when you and Seamus and the children come out after the baby is born you will laugh at me and all my silliness.
To resume what I was writing about before that little sadness, I confess that I'm rather desperate for all the plans we talked of that night to come true. I would not change the life I share with Josef on Idyllwind Farm for anything, save maybe if Mr. Edison would see fit to run some of his incandescent lamps out our way, and we might no longer have to rely on our kerosene lamps and candles to light the way. Waking up next to this man, working on this farm, being with our animals and my mother and our neighbors and friends, feeling our child kick within me, living in my beloved Bay, I know my life has turned out the way it was always meant to.
And yet...and yet I don't want my child to feel compelled to follow in my footsteps.
I have chosen my life, and that is why I love it. My situation when Father died was less than desirable, but I could have searched again for work in town, I could have joined a convent, I could have forced Mother to come out west with me and taught at that school. I chose Josef, and I choose him every day. If this baby wants to work the land, then I will celebrate that this farm will stay in the family. If Baby wants to teach, then she will teach. If she wants to go to university, or join a convent, or be a tailor, then I want her to be able to have those things. Life is so much sweeter when you do what you are made for.
Well! That is all for this very, very long letter, my friend. Write me soon, and do tell me that you and Seamus will at least consider leaving that awful city behind and join us out in the Bay. I have included a few newspaper clippings for your perusal. One is the account of a concert of Mr. Dvořák's music, which the artist himself attended, where a man got up in the middle of a piece and loudly complained and what transpired hence which I found amusing. Josef read it aloud to me and had me beside myself with his performance. I have copied it down for myself, so I leave you the original clipping. Another is the obituary for Father, as I have finally acquired an extra copy for you. Finally, a listing for a farm near here. Do consider it, both of you! Josef and I have been to see the property and the cabin is sound, if small. Josef says the earth there is good, and there is ample space for the children to run around, and a good schoolhouse to boot—and it is only a half mile's walk from Idyllwind Farm. There! I have said my bit! Do give my love to Seamus and the children, and write back soon. I eagerly await your response.
All my love,
Bea
Prev ~ Next ~ Beginning
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dear Irene,
I once again renew my efforts to draw you all to Brindleton Bay. If you and Seamus won't come for the good earth, clean air, and wholesome community, then come for me, your dearest friend. I so miss having you near! Would that life were as simple as when we were young, and I might stop over at yours for a cup of tea and a friendly chat on a whim. Especially now, as I am not able to make my way around Brindleton and Henford to do the marketing and meet with the ladies at church as easily as I used to. I can only imagine how strenuous I will find the tasks when my time comes nearer!
You will be gratified, I'm sure, to hear Josef has been marvelous in helping me in my current weakened state. I've never met a man more excited to become a father! Ever since I returned from the midwife and told him my news, he has spent all his waking hours either working the fields where I flatter myself to think he feels acutely the loss of my help, or working to improve the house for us. What was our bedroom has been split into a stairwell and a wee room for our newcomer. Our room, meanwhile, has been relocated to our brand-new second floor. It is a bit sparse, but it is more private, and it is ours! Of course, I was horribly emotional to think that the room I came to as a bride no longer exists, but I was calmed at the thought that we are doing well enough on the farm to afford these improvements.
Lest you think we are all work and no play, I will tell you how we have been spending our evenings lately. Mother is spending more and more time with her mysterious friend, and Josef and I find ourselves alone more and more. I adore Mother, truly, but I don't think I need to tell you how nice it is to have one's home and husband to oneself.
He dotes on me, my darling man. Josef is always touching me, pulling me close when no one is looking, placing a hand at my back when I am cooking our dinner, and especially caressing my (ever-growing) stomach. It seems so odd to say, but I don't believe he's ever been so in love with me as he is right now!
He is more impatient for Baby to arrive than I am, even. He pulled his father's violin out of storage and is teaching himself to play. Baby and I are his nightly audience. He is improving, but I confess I am hoping that my little passenger does not yet have ears. Other nights, he listens to me plod my way through children's piano books. We were gifted a dear, shabby old thing by a family moving back to the old country, and Mother and Josef were kind enough to fix the old thing up for me, so I might have something other than reading, knitting, and embroidery to occupy my time when I am too tired for much other than sitting.
One evening, though, we were occupying ourselves with none of these things. We couldn't seem to settle down to anything, not even to sitting ourselves on the couch. You would have teased me terribly for how sentimental we were being, caught up in the realm of fairies and fancies. He told me all about the plans he's making for our child. He wants to put away money whenever we might squirrel some away to give Baby and any more children we might have the chance for the kind of education we both dreamt of but never had the chance for ourselves.
I confessed that I love feeling Baby move. She is so little that Josef cannot yet feel much, but her little flutters are a near constant presence during my day—and yes, I am convinced that Baby is a she. Call it mother's intuition if you like, but I am certain about this. Josef teases me that this means we will certainly have twin boys, but of course I will love any children we are blessed with. Even if my pride will smart horribly if I am wrong!
We talked long into the night that evening, as we often do on Saturday nights when we plan to go to the late morning Mass the next day. The one thing we avoid talking about are the dangers to come. I am not so naive that I do not know how perilous what lies ahead may be. Mother lost many of her own before I was born safely, and almost lost her life when I was born. I have helped at my fair share of births, as well. You and I both have seen childbeds where mother or baby or both leave the grieving father behind. I try not to catastrophize for Josef's sake. He has already lost so much.
Still, in my happiness, I must plan for the worst. If...if it does happen, and I do not survive, please send the notes I have enclosed alongside my letter to you for Josef, Mother, and Baby, so they have something from me. I cannot shake the feeling that something may yet go wrong. The town midwife is capable, and I am young and strong, so hopefully this is all for nothing, and when you and Seamus and the children come out after the baby is born you will laugh at me and all my silliness.
To resume what I was writing about before that little sadness, I confess that I'm rather desperate for all the plans we talked of that night to come true. I would not change the life I share with Josef on Idyllwind Farm for anything, save maybe if Mr. Edison would see fit to run some of his incandescent lamps out our way, and we might no longer have to rely on our kerosene lamps and candles to light the way. Waking up next to this man, working on this farm, being with our animals and my mother and our neighbors and friends, feeling our child kick within me, living in my beloved Bay, I know my life has turned out the way it was always meant to.
And yet...and yet I don't want my child to feel compelled to follow in my footsteps.
I have chosen my life, and that is why I love it. My situation when Father died was less than desirable, but I could have searched again for work in town, I could have joined a convent, I could have forced Mother to come out west with me and taught at that school. I chose Josef, and I choose him every day. If this baby wants to work the land, then I will celebrate that this farm will stay in the family. If Baby wants to teach, then she will teach. If she wants to go to university, or join a convent, or be a tailor, then I want her to be able to have those things. Life is so much sweeter when you do what you are made for.
Well! That is all for this very, very long letter, my friend. Write me soon, and do tell me that you and Seamus will at least consider leaving that awful city behind and join us out in the Bay. I have included a few newspaper clippings for your perusal. One is the account of a concert of Mr. Dvořák's music, which the artist himself attended, where a man got up in the middle of a piece and loudly complained and what transpired hence which I found amusing. Josef read it aloud to me and had me beside myself with his performance. I have copied it down for myself, so I leave you the original clipping. Another is the obituary for Father, as I have finally acquired an extra copy for you. Finally, a listing for a farm near here. Do consider it, both of you! Josef and I have been to see the property and the cabin is sound, if small. Josef says the earth there is good, and there is ample space for the children to run around, and a good schoolhouse to boot—and it is only a half mile's walk from Idyllwind Farm. There! I have said my bit! Do give my love to Seamus and the children, and write back soon. I eagerly await your response.
All my love,
Bea
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#moody legacy#decades challenge#simblr#sims 4#decades challenge gen 1#sims 4 decades challenge#ts4#yall the childbirth mod by pandasama is the actual best thing done to the sims 4
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Bea's nausea didn't abate in the coming weeks. If anything, it worsened, and she often found herself ducking behind bushes or to the chamber pot in her mother's room to hide her sickness.
It wasn't that she didn't want to tell Josef about the possibility she was pregnant, it was the possibility part she was worried about. Now that she'd calmed herself down and realized that she wasn't deathly ill, she wanted to be certain that she was expecting and not, say, reacting to some questionable cheese before she shared her hopes with Josef. He so dearly wanted to be a father. Often, when he thought she wasn't looking, Bea spied Josef's sparkling eyes at playing children or mothers with babies. She wanted to fulfill that unspoken dream for the both of them. She just needed to find a moment to slip away to the midwife in town and see if her suspicions were correct.
Her opportunity presented itself one day when Josef had to attend a Grange meeting. He was to be gone all day, and offered some local boys a dollar each to complete the farm chores. In his quiet way, Josef was asking her to rest. Despite her efforts, Bea's pallor, lack of appetite, and exhaustion were evident. It was impossible for it not to be, so long as she was grimacing at the smell of eggs and falling asleep in her rocking chair in the middle of the day.
Relating all of this to the midwife later that day, Bea was almost embarrassed it had taken her so long to put two and two together—especially when she noticed the burgeoning swell to her abdomen during the quick examination. Still, it was with some measure of dazed awe which saw Bea leaving the midwife. There was no question; she was pregnant.
The rest of the day dragged on with agonizing sluggishness. Bea tried knitting, tidied the house, read, but after making dinner, nothing could keep her mind off of the news she was desperate to share with her husband. She couldn't even share the news with her mother. Madeline was out walking with a local widower (who she seemed to be growing closer with by the day), and said she would stay with friends in town that night.
Finally, while Bea was taking a walk to visit the animals the telltale clip-clop of the horses pulling the buggy sounded across the newly cobbled roadway near the house.
Bea shot forward across the yard and into her husband's arms. "Josef!" she cried, "Oh, my darling, I've been waiting for absolute ages for you to come home!"
Taken aback (but not exactly displeased by having his wife fling herself at him), stumbled back. "Ah, Bea? Are you well, my dear? I only left this morning."
"Fine, everything's fine," Bea laughed, holding onto him, "I've been to see the midwife today, that's all."
Worry creasing his brow, Josef stepped back to look at her. "You are alright, ja? It is not something serious, is it?"
A full-throated laugh bounded up from Bea's throat and escaped into the air around them. "We're such worriers, the two of us. I'm quite well, I promise. I only hope," she intoned slowly, a sparkle in her eye, "that our baby doesn't suffer the same affliction."
Josef stood as one who had been struck by lightning. "B-baby?" He brought up his hands to cup Bea's face and she laughed again. "Do you mean...?"
Bea bit her lip and nodded, grinning. "Yes, Josef, I'm having a baby."
He pressed his forehead to hers, hands still cradling her face. "Bea. My darling, darling Bea. You have made me happier than I think I have any right to be. A baby. Truly?"
"Yes, Josef, truly. You're going to be a papa. It seems the crops and chickens aren't the only thing that have been growing on this farm," Bea teased.
Josef exhaled a watery chuckle. He pulled her in for a tighter embrace. "I do not say it enough," he began, his voice wavering, just barely, "It is not usually my way. But I love you. Very much."
"Oh, my dearest man, I love you, too."
They stood as one, swaying in an early spring breeze on the land they worked together, bound by love and the child between them.
As they always were, always would be, Bea and Josef were drawn to each other. Quietly, and without preamble, their lips met, sealing something between them. It was a kiss that spoke of hope, a kiss that tasted of promise.
"Thank you," he seemed to be saying with his kiss, "for giving me everything I've ever dreamt of."
"Thank you," she seemed to say with hers, "for giving me this life, for loving me, for making me your wife."
They broke apart, simply holding each other and whispering about their hopes for each other, for their child. Though a drizzle of rain began to fall, they stayed there, together, as though in the middle of a bright, sunny day. Bea tucked herself further into his arms, thanking God that this man was the father of her child.
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Bea's nausea didn't abate in the coming weeks. If anything, it worsened, and she often found herself ducking behind bushes or to the chamber pot in her mother's room to hide her sickness.
It wasn't that she didn't want to tell Josef about the possibility she was pregnant, it was the possibility part she was worried about. Now that she'd calmed herself down and realized that she wasn't deathly ill, she wanted to be certain that she was expecting and not, say, reacting to some questionable cheese before she shared her hopes with Josef. He so dearly wanted to be a father. Often, when he thought she wasn't looking, Bea spied Josef's sparkling eyes at playing children or mothers with babies. She wanted to fulfill that unspoken dream for the both of them. She just needed to find a moment to slip away to the midwife in town and see if her suspicions were correct.
Her opportunity presented itself one day when Josef had to attend a Grange meeting. He was to be gone all day, and offered some local boys a dollar each to complete the farm chores. In his quiet way, Josef was asking her to rest. Despite her efforts, Bea's pallor, lack of appetite, and exhaustion were evident. It was impossible for it not to be, so long as she was grimacing at the smell of eggs and falling asleep in her rocking chair in the middle of the day.
Relating all of this to the midwife later that day, Bea was almost embarrassed it had taken her so long to put two and two together—especially when she noticed the burgeoning swell to her abdomen during the quick examination. Still, it was with some measure of dazed awe which saw Bea leaving the midwife. There was no question; she was pregnant.
The rest of the day dragged on with agonizing sluggishness. Bea tried knitting, tidied the house, read, but after making dinner, nothing could keep her mind off of the news she was desperate to share with her husband. She couldn't even share the news with her mother. Madeline was out walking with a local widower (who she seemed to be growing closer with by the day), and said she would stay with friends in town that night.
Finally, while Bea was taking a walk to visit the animals the telltale clip-clop of the horses pulling the buggy sounded across the newly cobbled roadway near the house.
Bea shot forward across the yard and into her husband's arms. "Josef!" she cried, "Oh, my darling, I've been waiting for absolute ages for you to come home!"
Taken aback (but not exactly displeased by having his wife fling herself at him), stumbled back. "Ah, Bea? Are you well, my dear? I only left this morning."
"Fine, everything's fine," Bea laughed, holding onto him, "I've been to see the midwife today, that's all."
Worry creasing his brow, Josef stepped back to look at her. "You are alright, ja? It is not something serious, is it?"
A full-throated laugh bounded up from Bea's throat and escaped into the air around them. "We're such worriers, the two of us. I'm quite well, I promise. I only hope," she intoned slowly, a sparkle in her eye, "that our baby doesn't suffer the same affliction."
Josef stood as one who had been struck by lightning. "B-baby?" He brought up his hands to cup Bea's face and she laughed again. "Do you mean...?"
Bea bit her lip and nodded, grinning. "Yes, Josef, I'm having a baby."
He pressed his forehead to hers, hands still cradling her face. "Bea. My darling, darling Bea. You have made me happier than I think I have any right to be. A baby. Truly?"
"Yes, Josef, truly. You're going to be a papa. It seems the crops and chickens aren't the only thing that have been growing on this farm," Bea teased.
Josef exhaled a watery chuckle. He pulled her in for a tighter embrace. "I do not say it enough," he began, his voice wavering, just barely, "It is not usually my way. But I love you. Very much."
"Oh, my dearest man, I love you, too."
They stood as one, swaying in an early spring breeze on the land they worked together, bound by love and the child between them.
As they always were, always would be, Bea and Josef were drawn to each other. Quietly, and without preamble, their lips met, sealing something between them. It was a kiss that spoke of hope, a kiss that tasted of promise.
"Thank you," he seemed to be saying with his kiss, "for giving me everything I've ever dreamt of."
"Thank you," she seemed to say with hers, "for giving me this life, for loving me, for making me your wife."
They broke apart, simply holding each other and whispering about their hopes for each other, for their child. Though a drizzle of rain began to fall, they stayed there, together, as though in the middle of a bright, sunny day. Bea tucked herself further into his arms, thanking God that this man was the father of her child.
Prev ~ Next ~ Beginning
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Bea's nausea didn't abate in the coming weeks. If anything, it worsened, and she often found herself ducking behind bushes or to the chamber pot in her mother's room to hide her sickness.
It wasn't that she didn't want to tell Josef about the possibility she was pregnant, it was the possibility part she was worried about. Now that she'd calmed herself down and realized that she wasn't deathly ill, she wanted to be certain that she was expecting and not, say, reacting to some questionable cheese before she shared her hopes with Josef. He so dearly wanted to be a father. Often, when he thought she wasn't looking, Bea spied Josef's sparkling eyes at playing children or mothers with babies. She wanted to fulfill that unspoken dream for the both of them. She just needed to find a moment to slip away to the midwife in town and see if her suspicions were correct.
Her opportunity presented itself one day when Josef had to attend a Grange meeting. He was to be gone all day, and offered some local boys a dollar each to complete the farm chores. In his quiet way, Josef was asking her to rest. Despite her efforts, Bea's pallor, lack of appetite, and exhaustion were evident. It was impossible for it not to be, so long as she was grimacing at the smell of eggs and falling asleep in her rocking chair in the middle of the day.
Relating all of this to the midwife later that day, Bea was almost embarrassed it had taken her so long to put two and two together—especially when she noticed the burgeoning swell to her abdomen during the quick examination. Still, it was with some measure of dazed awe which saw Bea leaving the midwife. There was no question; she was pregnant.
The rest of the day dragged on with agonizing sluggishness. Bea tried knitting, tidied the house, read, but after making dinner, nothing could keep her mind off of the news she was desperate to share with her husband. She couldn't even share the news with her mother. Madeline was out walking with a local widower (who she seemed to be growing closer with by the day), and said she would stay with friends in town that night.
Finally, while Bea was taking a walk to visit the animals the telltale clip-clop of the horses pulling the buggy sounded across the newly cobbled roadway near the house.
Bea shot forward across the yard and into her husband's arms. "Josef!" she cried, "Oh, my darling, I've been waiting for absolute ages for you to come home!"
Taken aback (but not exactly displeased by having his wife fling herself at him), stumbled back. "Ah, Bea? Are you well, my dear? I only left this morning."
"Fine, everything's fine," Bea laughed, holding onto him, "I've been to see the midwife today, that's all."
Worry creasing his brow, Josef stepped back to look at her. "You are alright, ja? It is not something serious, is it?"
A full-throated laugh bounded up from Bea's throat and escaped into the air around them. "We're such worriers, the two of us. I'm quite well, I promise. I only hope," she intoned slowly, a sparkle in her eye, "that our baby doesn't suffer the same affliction."
Josef stood as one who had been struck by lightning. "B-baby?" He brought up his hands to cup Bea's face and she laughed again. "Do you mean...?"
Bea bit her lip and nodded, grinning. "Yes, Josef, I'm having a baby."
He pressed his forehead to hers, hands still cradling her face. "Bea. My darling, darling Bea. You have made me happier than I think I have any right to be. A baby. Truly?"
"Yes, Josef, truly. You're going to be a papa. It seems the crops and chickens aren't the only thing that have been growing on this farm," Bea teased.
Josef exhaled a watery chuckle. He pulled her in for a tighter embrace. "I do not say it enough," he began, his voice wavering, just barely, "It is not usually my way. But I love you. Very much."
"Oh, my dearest man, I love you, too."
They stood as one, swaying in an early spring breeze on the land they worked together, bound by love and the child between them.
As they always were, always would be, Bea and Josef were drawn to each other. Quietly, and without preamble, their lips met, sealing something between them. It was a kiss that spoke of hope, a kiss that tasted of promise.
"Thank you," he seemed to be saying with his kiss, "for giving me everything I've ever dreamt of."
"Thank you," she seemed to say with hers, "for giving me this life, for loving me, for making me your wife."
They broke apart, simply holding each other and whispering about their hopes for each other, for their child. Though a drizzle of rain began to fall, they stayed there, together, as though in the middle of a bright, sunny day. Bea tucked herself further into his arms, thanking God that this man was the father of her child.
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Also just so y'all know the team of horses I keep saying Bea and Josef have WILL continue to be invisible until Horse Ranch goes on sale because ya girl is BROKE
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Now that Bea's pregnancy has been officially announced I'm torn between spamming you guys with all the cute pregnancy moments and holding off to keep to the schedule I'm desperately trying to make. The only thing staying my hand is knowing that the sooner I run out of my reserve, the sooner I have to get back to trying to take screenshots on my ancient laptop 😫✌
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