The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans)
Sims player fourteen generation deep into a legacy. Here's their story! Also, art and builds.
Tonight, Hugo tires Nounou out with a bright pink laser dancing around.
I bathe Hannah and put her to bed before the sitter arrives.
And then Hugo and I go on our first date in an eternity. We’re both a bit worried. We haven’t been alone in so long, and after everything we’re not so sure jow it’s going to go.
It went well.
Hannah is upstairs again, playing on her Freezer Bunny tablet
Hugo is collecting the dishes from our last meal.
And Nounou has heard me say “vet”, and is now hiding.
I didn’t mean today, Nounou.
A man in a suit walks into our apartment.
And all of a sudden, the first floor is flooded with cats. I play with them all, get to know them, talk about them to the man in the suite, and in return he asks me questions.
I’m really grateful today for our big our home is, as Hugo and Hannah are upstairs, playing, and don’t have a clue what’s going on.
Just as I planned.
I fall in love with a kitten, a little brown cutie-pie called Nounou.
And Nounou joins our family.
The introduction of Nounou to Hugo is a success!
They also fall in love. It’s amazing how much happiness this little ball of fur has already brought to the home.
Right on cue, Hugo walks into the room to ask if I need help prepping Hannah for bed. I tell him I want to talk. And while Hannah is deep into her MySims game, I finally talk to him, from my heart, with utter sincerity.
At the beginning he’s not all that receptive. He still wants to leave the blinds and the cover on everything that hurts. But I won’t let him, not anymore.
And finally he accepts my sincerity; and he accepts to speak, too. I listen, and I do my best to ease his pain.
And this is the beginning of our healing.
So once again, I go find shelter in the pages of my diary. I don’t expect it will help much at first. I’ve been doing that every day for a while now, but it’s more because I know I will feel even worse if I don’t.
But today, as I start writing about Grandma’s visit, I find memories of her coming back to me. The great times we spent together. Everything she taught me.
I remember when her husband’s mean son came to visit, and she taught us how to deal with adversity. I remember her kindness, and her optimism, and her ability to defuse any situation, just by seeing the light everywhere it may hide. Better yet, I read about it, in some of my past entries.
And now I do feel better. I feel like I can see the hidden light, too. That I know how to handle what life has thrown at me. Not just that, I think I know how to make things better, not just for me, but for us.
Innocence incarnate.
I wish I knew what brought R2-D2 to swim with her imaginary fishes, but she insists that’s how her story goes.
‘Azalea?’
‘Come here, baby, you know I’ll always take care of you.’
I know she will. Grandma is more in tune with a body’s wellness than any other sim I’ve met. She says she can help me relax with a massage; and for the duration of the massage, it works. The pressure on the right nerves, the motherly touch of my grandmother, the relaxing view over the San Myshuno Bay…
For the first time in weeks, I feel content, almost happy.
But it doesn’t last.
Grandma insists on spending the afternoon with us. Begrudgingly, we agree. And she finds herself, quite literally, stuck in the middle.
Her attempts at making us talk to each other fail, one after the other, and when she tries to invite us to cool off by taking a deep, freeing breath, we both sigh in exasperation.
Which leaves Grandma frustrated, and annoyed.
I give in, and finally explain to her why it won’t be so easy as taking a deep breath.
I tell her everything.
To Hugo’s dismay. He argues that this is nothing to concern Grandma, that it is our business only.
He’s not completely wrong.
I see Grandma’s face drop, and my pain mirrored in her eyes, and I suddenly wish I could take it all back, put on a better act, and never put this burden on our matriarch’s shoulders.
But I can’t, and she wouldn’t want me to.
Grandma comes to visit us, for the first time in a while. She didn’t know either. She expects the joyful family she’s used to.
It takes her half a minute to know that something’s wrong. She’s practically raised three generations of Stewarts women, she can read me like an open book.
I tell her that Hugo and I haven’t been at our best lately.
Hugo isn’t even paying attention to our conversation. He is only in the same room as us because Hannah heard her great-grandma’s voice and ran to the entrance.
He hears his name and vaguely looks up, but can’t bring himself to look me or Grandma in the eyes.
“You see what I mean?”
She does. And she isn’t going to just let it pass.
It’s a weird time.
Before, Hugo and I could barely ever be seen one without the other. Now? It’s almost as if we avoid each other.
Hugo was never the most dynamic, but he was always willing to go outside and do things. Now, when Hannah’s being looked after, he retreats somewhere, and loses himself in thought. Or he sleeps, a lot. He hasn’t streamed anything in weeks.
It’s not just on him, though. I don’t know if it’s Hugo I flee as much as the apartment, but I, on the contrary, am always outside. I take up my morning joggings again, but they’re not as relaxing as they once were. The San Myshuno Uptown is not exactly a nurturing environment.
But there is one thing that we both agree on and that has us gravitate towards each other, towards the life and the remnants of joy in our apartment.
Hannah.
The Uptown feels so… empty.
Hannah is our little angel. She’s an independent little one, content with diving into the worlds in her little toddler books. She always wants more, she always imagines more.
My happy Hannah.
She’s as cuddly as ever.
I’m lucky she’s there.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 