#southern mom

[traditionalcristianhousewife]

In the realm of love and care, she resides,

A guardian of hearts, where her love abides.

With gentle touch and nurturing embrace,

A stay at home mom, her world's embrace.

In the morning's light, she wakes with grace,

To tend to little ones in their peaceful space.

With tender kisses and a warm embrace,

She sets the stage for a day filled with grace.

She crafts a haven within these walls,

Where laughter echoes and joy never falls.

In the midst of chaos, she finds her calm,

A stay at home mom, a soothing balm.

She weaves a tapestry of love and dreams,

Guiding her children with endless esteem.

Her patience, a virtue, never wavering,

A constant guide as their hearts are savoring.

From morning routines to bedtime tales,

She creates memories that will never pale.

Though her tasks may seem mundane and small,

Her love for her family stands tall.

She wears many hats, a multitasking queen,

Balancing chores and dreams in between.

With a heart full of love, she selflessly gives,

A stay at home mom, a life she lives.

So let us honor and celebrate,

The strength and love she demonstrates.

For in her embrace, we find solace and calm,

A stay-at-home mom, a beautiful psalm.

[wells-creative]

I guess I should have an intro post.

Hi, I’m Kelsea! I am a stay at home mom, a lifelong horse girl and a dabbler in a legion of interests and activities.

I like crafting and collecting hobbies and hobby paraphernalia. We don’t talk about the state of my craft room.

I am trying to be more sustainable when it comes to the textiles in my home. Focusing a lot on repairing items I can and making items rather than buying new.

99% of my wardrobe is secondhand whether thrifted or given to me by someone. This includes my shoes.

I’m really focusing on finishing my projects and using what I have to make do. I love using found materials and making them useful again.

I am trying to get in touch with my inner green thumb as well so I will be posting some gardening content as well.

I will take content requests. Let me know if there something you would like to see!

Cashapp below if anyone is feeling generous 🤷🏻‍♀️

[demaparbat-hp]

Izumi (steambaby) sketches.

[cicada-heart]

bonaventure cemetery 🤍

august 2024

[d0rianw1lde]

Sometimes I wonder if Eddie had ever found another maternal figure.

He’d always been such a mama’s boy. Wayne had the photos (and stories) to prove it. Endless nights of curling up in his mama’s lap while her nails gently scratched at his scalp- She’d always known the quickest way to get him to fall asleep- and endless days of watching her blues records spinning on the player while she took in the cool breeze drifting through their trailer’s screen door on those hot, Tennessee summer days.

But when he’d finally comprehended it all- that she would never come back, that he would never feel her fingers in his hair or smell her fruity perfume waft through the house,- I think he’d held that hole in his heart for so long.

But for a short while, there was someone who filled it- Melissa Buckley, the local librarian.

In such a small town, it’s easy to spot the newbies. It was no different when she’d seen a wild head of curls approaching the desk, peeking up over the tall stack of books with with eyes as wide as saucers and as dark as night that flickered to and fro as it explored the brand new environment.

“‘Scuse me miss?” A quiet voice beckoned, words drenched in a sweet, southern twang. “I’s just- uhm- wonderin’ if you had any Lord’a the rings.”

“Big books for a little kid, dontcha think?” She’d asked after she moved the stack of books to lock eyes with the new boy, all scraped knees and elbows, freckles and twinkly eyes, swimming in an old tee-shirt and held together only by the overalls slung over his slim shoulders. And he cracks a smile- a crooked little gapped-tooth grin.

“Maybe,” He begins, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels. “Maybe, but I ain’t ever gonna let that stop me from explorin’ the shire. Uhm- I ain’t got a library card though.” He says quietly. “On account ‘a I just moved here. Can I still read em here?”

And Melissa knows she should tell him the truth- ‘Yes, but remember, people will want to check those books out too’ is the phrase that bumps around in her head. But his earnest grin, and his little accent, and the shy, freckled grin does nothing but kick on that maternal instinct of hers. “Well..” she mutters quietly. “Tell you what..You can read them, and I’ll keep them aside. And when you can, you bring your mom or dad in, and we can get you started.

“..Mighty kind of you, miss, but my mom n’ dad ain’t able to come in. Mama’s passed, and Dad ain’t been home the last few days. Dunno when he’ll be back. ‘Big job’.” He explains.

And that sentence alone breaks her heart- makes her think of her own little girl, who must’ve been the same age as he was, alone. It twists in her chest, it makes her feel a bit sick. And from that moment, even if Eddie didn’t know, she’d vowed to herself to keep an eye on him.

And she did- she’d turn a blind eye when he would curl up on the peeling leather chair in the corner of the fiction section and fall asleep with another thick fantasy book on his lap. She’d set him up in the break-room with a juicebox and graham crackers she’d packed when making Robin’s lunch and listen intently as he whispered about the chapter he’d just finished, and the characters he’d grown to love.

And she wonders how anybody could leave him be. He reminds her so much of her little girl- how he rambles excitedly, how his eyes light up a the mention of a brand new book to read. She wonders how anybody could see this little boy and somehow have nothing but love in their hearts. How anybody could possibly leave him alone.

And Eddie?

Eddie loves the smell of incense, and flowers, and old books on Melissa. He loves giving her a big hug before he leaves for the day. He loves being able to sneak behind the desk and watch her take inventory of the returned books. He loves when she brings him snacks, or reads him the big words he can’t quite figure out. How she encourages him to read to her to pass the time. It ignites his love of storytelling. It ignites his excitement for life.

It’s not his mama. But nothing will ever be his mama. And maybe he won’t be able to put his head in his mama’s lap and let her blues records lull him to sleep.

But resting his head against Melissa’s shoulder and listening to the quiet flipping of pages or her hushed narration was a new kind of comfort. A comfort he’d needed. A comfort he always wonders if his mama sent down just for him.

[papermassacred]

beauty queen of ‘83

[late-draft]

Southern Raiders

Well, after rewatching the Southern Raiders with my mom, it's easy to see why it could be interpreted as Zuko wanting violence and revenge, with scenes such as him lingering too long with his angry stare at Yon Rha after Katara already decided to leave, or him attacking and pressing on to get information from the captain of the Southern Raiders on the whereabouts of the man they were actually looking for, even though he could have called it quits as a "dead end" when Katara already started walking away.

But that's a misread. This is nothing personal to him and it wouldn't align with any of Zuko's previous behaviour - not in the Boiling Rock where he did everything to help Sokka, not in Day of the Black Sun when he didn't attack his father. Not in the North, where he offered a hand to try to save Zhao, a man who attempted to get him killed.

If the viewer invests two seconds into investigating the situation, it instantly becomes clear that when Katara was walking away when they hit the information "dead end", she was grim, tense, frustrated, bitter and still deeply hurt. Calling it quits there would mean her emotional wound would not heal. This is the reason why Zuko pressed on, and the reason he looked at Yon Rha with disgust. Not because he wanted murder, but because he was significantly affected by how deeply Katara was hurt.

"You should get some rest." "Are you ready Katara?" It's disingenuous to read Zuko's quotes as him doing this just to manipulate her into committing murder. He's never been portrayed as a manipulator in the show, and it makes perfect sense he's truly saying and doing these things to help her, just like how he was helping Sokka an episode earlier.

Yes, if I were directing the episode, I would have added scenes of more closeups, Katara despairing when they ran into a dead end; Zuko seeing her pain and it reflecting in his expression of sadness. That is where the focus actually is, and it would be conveyed visually this way. But:

Considering this episode was rewritten a thousand times, it's clear how the actual meaning was placed underneath the top layer of misdirection. And it becomes clear there was no chance for directing to put these visual explanations.

My mom commented, "maybe the Southern Raiders took Katara's mother as a prisoner, why is she overreacting?" and I had to facepalm. No, it's heavily implied Katara saw her mother's charred corpse. Her reactions throughout the show in regards to her memories of her mother are extremely intense, causing her to shake and cry. Third episode of the series, she outright says the Fire Nation killed her mother. And Yon Rha confirms in the end that he "didn't take any prisoners". It doesn't matter that Yon Rha was a pathetic person who was able to kill Kya due to Southern Raiders overwhelming their village and her being a nonbender. The trauma it caused to Katara became an integral part of her. Her "nasty" comment towards Sokka is logical. It's not nice or kind, but it's logical. Zuko was able to understand the depth of her pain and that simply "forgiving and moving on" was not an option for her.

And in the end, facing Yon Rha did help Katara get closure. It helped her. It alleviated the pain she was intensely bottling up for years. It gave her back control and power over the murderer she could do nothing about as an 8 year old girl.

[powerlineprincess]

I never introduced you guys to my angel babies!!! Bruno & Coco, they're lionhead bunnies♡ and truly, my first real pets that weren't just a friend's lol♡ they bonded together beautifully and are attached at the hip now. This is back when they found their way up to the top of the hay supply｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

[nels-mama]

The life I aspire to have.

I just want a haunted homestead to raise my kid(s) on.

[traditionalcristianhousewife]

Title: Celebrating the Beauty of Being a Traditional Wife and Homemaker

In the modern era, the traditional roles of a wife and homemaker have often been overshadowed by the pursuit of career and external achievements. However, it is essential to recognize and celebrate the wonderful and fulfilling aspects of being a traditional wife and homemaker. In this post, we will explore the joys and significance of embracing these roles and how they contribute to a meaningful and fulfilling life.

Embracing the role of a traditional wife and homemaker provides an opportunity to create a loving and nurturing environment for your family. By dedicating your time and energy to caring for your spouse, children, and home, you are fostering a sense of warmth and security that becomes the foundation of a strong and harmonious family unit.

Being a traditional wife and homemaker allows you to prioritize the well-being of your loved ones. You have the chance to be intimately involved in every aspect of your family's life, from preparing nutritious meals to creating a peaceful and organized home. By taking on these responsibilities, you are actively contributing to the physical, emotional, and spiritual growth of your family members.

The role of a traditional wife and homemaker also provides an opportunity for personal growth and self-expression. As you engage in various tasks, such as cooking, cleaning, and decorating, you can tap into your creativity and showcase your unique talents. Each task becomes an opportunity to infuse your personal touch and create a loving and inviting space for your family.

Being a traditional wife and homemaker allows you to cultivate strong family bonds and create cherished memories. By being present and actively involved in your family's lives, you have the opportunity to build deep connections and foster a sense of belonging. From family traditions to shared experiences, these moments become the building blocks of a strong and loving family unit.

Choosing to be a traditional wife and homemaker does not diminish your value or limit your potential. It is a personal choice that allows you to prioritize the well-being of your family and create a nurturing environment. By embracing these roles, you are contributing to the overall happiness and fulfillment of both yourself and your loved ones.

Being a traditional wife and homemaker is a beautiful and meaningful choice that deserves recognition and celebration. It provides an opportunity to create a loving and nurturing environment, prioritize the well-being of your family, and showcase your unique talents. Let us embrace the joys and significance of these roles, knowing that they contribute to a fulfilling and purposeful life.

[wells-creative]

I’m posting this here so I can be held accountable and also share any progress.

I’ve realized after having a child and at 27 years old i am in the worst physical shape I have ever been in. And I want to be more capable and flexible so I’m not huffing and puffing to keep up with my kid. Included recent picture of myself where I feel like I look not so great.

I’ve got this app called FitOn that has challenges and stuff that I’ll be doing as regularly as I can. Tonight I did the following workout

It was fun and definitely showed my weakness and lack of mobility. I’m trying to start with yoga in hopes it will help my flexibility and tone me a little without being super repetitive like a lot of workouts are. And I’ve always wanted to learn more yoga so we will see.

I’m not trying to get ripped or anything. I really just want to feel a little more capable and be able to get off the floor without it feeling like a job 😂.

So if anyone has this app and wants to be friends here’s my link!

[arbitrarycategories]

AND ANOTHER THING I really like how Princess and the Frog feels more grounded and realistic because of the web of people each of the protags are connected to! Classic princess movies feature very isolated princesses - in Cinderella it’s an extension of her abuse, in Snow White it’s a result of her circumstances, in Sleeping Beauty it’s an intentional measure intended to preserve her safety. Princess and the Frog manages to cut down the cast by way of magic, because nobody is taking their parents and friends on their impromptu bayou adventure, but when they’re in the city they both are shown with the people who are part of their daily lives. Tiana has a living mother and a father who died in the army. She also has a bestie, a rude boss, regulars she knows by name, and other friends who aren’t named but are close enough to invite her dancing and complain about her workaholic tendencies. Both of Prince Naveen’s parents are alive and we see his little brother in the final scene. It adds to the feeling of them belonging to part of a larger world!

[sunbleachedfl1es]

[creekfiend]

someone asked me what constitutes northeast Georgia given the shape of the state is sort of smooshed in at the top right-hand corner, so here is an opportunity for me to get excited about northeast Georgia, which is more a geologic distinction than anything bc it's about which counties have got the blue ridge mountains in them, basically.

things I learned reading this wiki article: "The Adult Swim animated series Squidbillies takes place in Dougal County, a fictional county located in the North Georgia mountains" weird of them to invent a county given that we have an actual real county called LUMPKIN COUNTY but who am I to criticize

it's like a very specific area of the state mainly bc the isolation caused by the mountains meant that southern Appalachia was quite culturally isolated for a long time. :) so there's a lot of really hyper specific cultural AND hyper specific ecological stuff going on here! we got such a variety of plants and animals and fungi. up in Rabun county they get more rain than almost anywhere else in the country because the mountains form a storm trap and Rabun county has these areas that are tiny microclimates of temperate rainforests. it is pretty much the coolest thing. it's a very neat area of the country!

also: yes, we have a famously stupid quantity of counties in Georgia and it is truly unnecessary but also kind of funny.

[thecaywild]

Are you a fan of freckles?

[steviewashere]

What if Eddie dying in the Upside Down was the only way to end his time loop?

CW: Suicide, Eddie's Sacrifice as Suicide (in a way?), Blood, Canon Typical Violence, Major Character Death (hopefully this is obvious)

He's seen it all before. Chrissy and her bones snapping. Patrick and his bones snapping. Nancy with her eyes rolled back. Steve's bleeding back, the road rash on his arms. He tosses the vest. He starts the RV. He pats Dustin's head. Nancy saws the gun. Max rocks it to Kate Bush. He's seen it all before.

The first time—

Dustin died. Eddie came hobbling after him, ankle twisted and multiple bones in one foot fractured. He limped the whole way, groaning like a zombie. His shield and spear were still tight in his hands, or held tighter just in case. And then, in the clearing, surrounded by hundreds of little velvet bodies, Dustin laid limp. Eddie held him, sobbed over him, too late. Dustin was smaller, Dustin was easier to chew, he was gone before Eddie had the chance to say goodbye. He didn't know what to do, how to be, if he should find a soft spot to bury the body, if they needed to lug him back and just accept the death penalty—the scorn. But he didn't move. Just sat, hunched.

Until Steve came along, ripping him back from Dustin's body. There was a punch, then two, a third. And somewhere in the chaos, Eddie heard something clatter to the ground. In the haze of his vision, he caught the long nose of Nancy's shot gun. It was still sawed off, loaded. In an impulsive, split second decision, he stood on the left side of Dustin's body, Steve and the others hovering over Dustin's right, he raised the barrel of the shotgun to his mouth—

Bang.

He blinked back to Chrissy in the woods, aimlessly looking at the trees, looking for a clock that wasn't there.

The second time—

Steve died. It went about the same way. Except he was heavier, exhausted, moist with his own blood. Babbling on and on. "Protect 'em. Gotta...gotta..." and "R'bin band...basketball...game T'sday..." and "Tell Mom 'm...sorry...sorry...'m sorry".

He held firm to Steve's hands. Big, heavy hands in his grip. Not even holding on, just limp to grasp. And, with the shifting blue sky, something glinted in the corner of his eye. The axe.

Steve babbled, spewed more apologies. His eyes distant to the sky above him. Fresh tears cleaning dirt from his cheeks. His lips didn't part very far, just enough for those mumbled letters to come out. And when Eddie let go, Steve didn't respond, his hands falling back loosely to his sides.

I hope this hurts.

He blinked back to Chrissy in the woods, aimlessly looking at the trees, looking for a clock that wasn't there.

The third time was Robin.

The fourth time was Nancy.

The fifth was Lucas.

The sixth time—

Dustin was crying over him.

He expected it to hurt. To hurt a whole lot. A whole hell of a lot. Except, now, experiencing it, he didn't move so the pain was subdued. He saw the sky that Steve did. Blank of stars, dark as the sea. An ocean he only visited once or twice with his mom. He felt the ground as Dustin did. Cold against his warm wounds. Just as sheets used to be, where his dad wouldn't lay, and so he cuddled up to his mom. Her fingers combing through his curls, singing softly under her breath.

She had tens of records, buried in milk crates, scattered around the various rooms of their little house in Louisiana. There had always been a looseness to her, this carefree sway in her arms as she danced the two of them around the room. He was always shorter than her—she was gone too young—so he stood on her toes, probably crushing and crackling all her fresh pedicures. They had a whole lot of outdoor dinners, under a vast dark sky, cold grass at their toes, gumbo stained at the corners of their mouths.

Dying young scared him. It always did. Does now. She couldn't say much about where she was going. Just told him to keep on with his bible reading, bowing his head during prayer, to be neat with communion. That Uncle Wayne would take him to service, a real nice service where they dressed up and celebrated life, longevity. That he'd be going over the hills, around the mountains, across the river, home with Wayne. He always liked Wayne—he was real sweet, quietly polite, gruff in a gentle way. She wanted him to do great things once he got to Indiana.

Was this it?

The great big thing?

He looked away from the sky for a brief, dizzying moment. To gaze back at Dustin, still crying these nauseous, heaving things. He couldn't move, it'd hurt like hell if he did. The blood on his tongue started to taste like pork sausage—metallic and barely sweet—one step closer to the gumbo of his childhood. There were voices distantly, husky and quiet, on low like the bluegrass records. He opened his mouth a smidge, just as Steve did.

"Tell Mama...tell...tell my Mama I'll see 'cross the river," he hopes he got out. His tongue was too heavy, though. And Dustin looked too confused to mean anything right. But he said his peace, bowed his head a tad like gearing for prayer.

The next time he woke up, the grass was cold under his toes and the bowl of gumbo sat heavy in his belly, Woody was crooning in the other room, his mom's fingers were combing through his hair. "Welcome home, bubba," she said. And, yeah, that sounded right.