An Explanation.

I realized today that I never answered a question that has been asked more than a few times . . . why did I select domestic violence agencies to benefit from Christmas Crazy? Well, here you go.

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Data. It's just a bunch of numbers and letters and disconnected chaos. Data is cold. Data is unfeeling. Data lacks compassion. But, sometimes, there's a story in data. Sometimes data describes a nightmare.

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In a previous life, I loved data. I loved making it fit into computer systems. I loved figuring out how to make it act like my puppet, completing reports and finishing tasks at my bidding.

During that Data Lover stage, I worked for a company that sold the software sometimes used by domestic violence and sexual assault agencies to do their reporting. It was my job to figure out how to make data and that system sing together in harmony.

More specifically, domestic violence agencies are required to report demographic information about the people that they help and service information about how they help them. I helped them create those reports.

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Client type.

The best agencies to work with were the ones that only had one or two client types. There is nothing pleasant about domestic violence, but somehow it's less horrible when you're only talking about adults. When "child" ends up in that Client Type field, the world takes an ugly turn.

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Type of Victimization.

It makes sense that funding sources need the information. For example, how can they know that prevention education monies are being used wisely if they don't know what exactly is going on in the world? They need to know if someone has been physically or emotionally abused. Of course. It's when the types of victimization became more specific that time stopped.

Confinement.

Pushing.

Throwing.

Choking.

Biting.

Broken bones.

Assault with a weapon.

Burns.

Sexual exploitation.

Sexual assault.

Genital mutilation.

Witness to assault with a weapon.

Assault with a weapon.

Witness to murder.

It's just data. It's just a bunch of choices in a drop-down field. But, it tells a story, and the story it tells when agencies need to be able to select multiple things in that field is a very frightening one.

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Income.

As horrifying as fields for victimization and victim types and such were, it was the income fields that drove home the fact that the stories could belong to anyone. Domestic violence victims aren't only drug addicts living on the streets. They are people just like you and me. They are people living in big houses in good school districts. They are people who drive their kids to school and show up for PTA meetings and volunteer to help those less fortunate. They are people who seem to be living a good life.

Many agencies asked for two pieces of income information--household income and "real" income, meaning the money that the client actually had access to. It was all too common for the household income to be six figures, but for the "real" income to be absolutely nothing.

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If you put the data together, you paint a picture of women who have been isolated and abused. They have done everything they can to protect their children, to make sure they get everything they need, and to be good mothers. Sometimes abusers are prominent members of the community who have carefully woven webs of deceit, designed to trap the women in a world of fear and self-loathing. Once the women break free of that web, they are forced to depend on the kindness of others in order to get by. They need help, whether they want it or not.

Ever since I first read the tales that the data from domestic violence agencies weave, I've wanted to help. I have especially wanted to help those kids who had been used as pawns in a violently complicated game of chess.

Thank you for making that possible.

Look! Something Shiny!

Part of the reason that I love having multiple Christmas trees is that I love being able to "theme" a tree, giving full attention to that special thing I love. I'm crazy about the combination of red, white, silver, and snowflakes, so BAM! I built a tree around that. I adore Boyd's plush ornaments, so BAM! I created another tree just for them. Classic Pooh ornaments make me all warm and fuzzy, so BAM! There's a tree for that.

But then there's a whole slew of other things I love, but can't quite do a whole tree around them. There's the motion ornaments that I have been collecting since high school. As much as I love them, it's just not possible to buy more than one per year (HOLY EXPENSIVE ORNAMENTS, BATMAN!). There's also the ornaments that represent each of our pets, including the ones that are no longer with us. It's probably a good thing that there are only a half dozen or so of those.

Most cherished, though, are the ornaments that Alexis has made.  To continue reading, go over here, please and thank you!

All I Want For Christmas Is a Few Extra Hours

Once upon a time, I spent every available December moment playing with twinkly lights and glitter and glue and trees and ornaments and spray snow and ESPECIALLY twinkly lights. If there was a surface to be decorated, I found it. I conquered it. I loved every minute of it.

Now, just two weeks before Christmas, I look around and can't believe my eyes. There are railings without garland. There are shrubs and trees that are naked. There are ornaments in plastic tubs. There are lawn decorations still in their boxes. IT'S HORRIFYING.

I can't believe how little is decorated, especially outside. I don't even recognize myself.

I remember thinking years ago how fantastic it would be to be a child growing up in our house during the holidays. In my mind, the Christmas tree isn't sufficiently lit if you can't read by the glow of the twinkly lights. The yard isn't done until fuses start blowing when you flick a switch. Our house has always been so obnoxiously festive that it looked like a kid HAD to have been involved with the decorating.

And then we had Alexis and I figured out a little something.

The people who manage to decorate enough to fulfill every child's holiday decorating dreams are the people WHO DON'T HAVE KIDS. Once you have kids to deal with, there just isn't time for all of those shenanigans.

Or at least that's my excuse.