Hello, everyone...I thought I would drop you all a note, and see if anyone wanted to donate to St. Jude in the month of March. See, I joined the Knit & Fundraise Challenge for St. Jude, and then I realized my life is a smelly dumpster fire at the moment, so I may have overestimated my ability to be a prolific knitter in an allotted time frame.
That, though, is the bad news.
I mean, there has been a ton of bad news, in my defense. But what I mean is that if I look on the bright side, at least I started to knit, at least I am sharing the fundraiser, and at least the people who know me understand that I am already doing my best. So there is that.
Here is the link to the donation page. If you don't have Facebook, you can always just go here to donate, and there is a spot to put who sent you to their page. You can donate in memory of someone, or in honor of an occasion like, say, Amy Kaspar's Knit & Fundraise Challenge:
https://www.facebook.com/donate/598504321614651/10158923877575474/
For the record, I am doing my part anyway. I am knitting, I am showing you my progress right here and right now, and I am tooting the horn of St. Jude publicly!
See? Here I am at the gym this morning, "representin'," as the cool kids say.
And yesterday, I was sitting at the Avery Coonley School in Downers Grove, waiting for Stanley to be socially evaluated. For those of you who do not know my son, you know how hilarious it is that he needed to be evaluated in the first place when it comes to social skills. The kid has boundaries, but he has no Stranger Danger whatsoever. They were having a Wellness Period while he was there, so when we were leaving, he had to go up to each dog-handler of the three dog visitors and ask them, "Is your dog friendly?" before petting their dogs.
And finally, here is your glimmer of hope for the day. Many knitters look at patterns, browse the internet for inspiration, and even wander the yarn shop with the idea that seeing a finished product will make him, her, or them want to start
and finish a project. I, a short-attention-span-knitter, often start projects that take me months because I keep putting them down, in order to be stimulated by a different project. This one, however...just look at it. The project is from Lang Yarns and the yarn, in my stash, is Berroco
Lustra (a throwback, for sure...it has probably been discontinued for a decade...but by all means, zoom in on the gorgeousness):
I have had a hard time. Last year was the culmination of a three-year period, where I was trying to hold my marriage together as my husband went down a horrible downward spiral, only to have him seek help and then realize how overwhelming adulthood is (I am simplifying because the details are really nobody's business). The pandemic, which happened to be the same time period, was a horrible time to be a property investor in Chicago. It resulted in me losing $70,000 in one year with no recourse from any relief program out there, and selling a building for the sake of my mental health. I then purchased a wonderful place from a wonderful man out in Rochelle, about sixty miles from my house. The tenants there are like family, just like my building in Westmont. It has not been all gloom and doom, but the bad has far, far outweighed the good.
On Christmas Eve, Erik's kids were visiting us from their mom's house for the holiday. Recently, their household situation had dramatically changed, and Christmas Eve was the first time the kids could finally be honest with us about the horrors they had been subjected to and living with. We had spent the past six years telling them, "Look...we know that's not true. Just tell us the truth instead of lying. You can trust us." Realistically, though, they could not possibly trust adults. At all. We understood this, and we had waited patiently.
So, we spent over an hour hearing about the horrors of all of the stuff we knew, but just needed confirmation. Again, the specific details are nobody's business. But on January 11, I got a call from my husband less than an hour after I arrived to work. He had been contacted by Emergency Services, and was on his way to his former house, where his ex-wife lived.
The kids, fifteen minutes previous to this, had discovered their mom dead in bed. They are eight and thirteen.
I arrived there, did what I had to do to support my husband, and then talked to God a bit about just desserts and karma and other non-religious stuff that fits in the monster-sized "What Goes Around Comes Around" file, because I was assessing the last six years and predicting the next six. My brain goes in weird places when I am the Calm One, and there are some big feelings around me. The kids had already been picked up at this point, but they immediately came to live with us, along with their two not-properly-cared-for cats.
The past two months have been challenging, for both everyone in my household and everyone who encounters us. Trauma, and the processing of trauma - especially when the kids and the husband were never given the tools to process it properly - is like pancake syrup. You see it, you wash it, it looks gone, and then you realize that it was on your fingertips and has stuck to everything you have touched since then.
The kids have outbursts like toddlers, except that they weigh about ninety pounds apiece. I feel overwhelmed but have to take care of more than my share, since I am the most enlightened in the house. Erik is overwhelmed because - let's face it - this is A LOT. Our jobs are affected. The school counselors are working overtime. Money is basically being tossed out the front door to make up for the fact that all essentials and full-time items needed to be purchased, and items on a normal parenting checklist had somehow been recently neglected. Therapists are being recruited. Moments of mistrust are tense. It is hard.
But you know what? This knitting project represents progress. We have all come a long way in a very short time, and we are starting to come together as a beautiful unit. If details are what you want, reach out to me privately and I will decide if you are worthy or entitled to them. Other than that, though, I ask for both your donations to St. Jude, and your prayers. They don't have to be to God (the prayers, I mean). If you are the kind of person who talks to the ashes of your dead cat, then just know I totally get that. You do you, and thank you.
