Chris Van Hakes's Blog, page 11

You Are Such a Blessing

I used to think the only way I would help people in my life is if I were a doctor or a social worker or a volunteer of some kind. I am not cut out to be a doctor or a social worker, though, and while I have volunteered in the past, it always feel disingenuous, like I’m trying to win something. I don’t particularly enjoy any of the volunteer work I’ve done.

And I thought, very strongly, that my writing would never help anyone. Listen, now, other people’s writing has helped me. Immensely. It has made me feel not alone, and helped me put together parts of the world that were a mystery, and to have more compassion for people I didn’t previously. I am not saying that writers do not help, but that my particular brand of writing did not. So I thought I was a bit doomed, personally, to be a selfish beast of an individual.

The other day, though, after a babysitter plan flopped, I was despairing on Facebook looking for local babysitter recommendations. Gregg and I hadn’t been out on a date night in months, and our wedding anniversary was coming up. I really just want the opportunity to sit across from the love of my life for an hour, a tiny bit drunk, without cleaning up spilled apple juice or cutting up someone’s pasta, or fetching another napkin. I really need a date night.

I didn’t get any babysitter recommendations, though. What happened was that my friend Allie volunteered to babysit, and when I told Gregg, he said, “You really do have the best friends.”

I said, “I know.”

“No, and I don’t just mean Allie. I mean all of your friends. On the Internet. From church. From everywhere. You have the best people as your friends. I’ve never met anyone who knew so many great people.”

“I know,” I said, this time crying a little bit. “And I didn’t even do anything!”

I didn’t, and yet here you are, those who read my blog and those who don’t. I cannot express how much you have personally helped me. You’ve helped me be braver, stronger, courageous, bolder. You’ve given me presents and pep talks and cards. You’ve bought my book, you’ve critiqued my writing, you’ve talked about my work. You’ve answered my panicky emails and texts.

And I? I am still this selfish beast of an individual who has NO IDEA WHY you are here. I don’t know, but I am not letting you go easily. You’ve changed everything about me, made me who I am, and honestly, I know I say it a lot, but you have made my life. You’ve made me ME. How do I ever repay that?

I really can’t. And you’ve taught me: I don’t have to be a doctor or a social worker or a volunteer. I can be a friend. I don’t know that I will, but I hope one day I can be a great friend like you, and to change someone’s life a fraction as much as you’ve changed mine.

Boring Housekeeping Notes

I am doing outfit of the day posts again, but over on tumblr. That keeps all the “skirts and shit,” as a friend of mine calls them, out of the way. If you follow me on twitter, it autoposts links there.

I am conflicted about ad space. I broke up with BlogHer in August when I was barely blogging but now I am thinking of sending them a “take me back please!” email. The extra little income is nice, but it is not like I am Big Blogger MoneyBucks over here. Still, it would pay for my “books I read this month” giveaways. Do you have thoughts on sidebar ads? I mostly ignore them on sites, so I am not sure they are much longer for this world. Maybe my fret is useless.

I am going to change the “books I read this month” giveaway to “books I liked this month,” because I am a sensitive little kitten right now. I am hoping my anti-anxiety meds make me a hard-assed critic of smutty romances once more, but that may not happen. I am all soft and gooey in the center, like a Caramello. Thus, I will tell you about some fun, great books, and give away one.

Did you make it to the end? Reward:

 

A coworker of Gregg’s drew that of him outside their team room, and underneath it says, “YOU SHALL NOT PASS.”

Most embarrassing? The coworker found a photo of Gregg from HERE. So there is a possibility that someone who works with Gregg is reading this right now.

So, Gregg’s friends: IT’S ALL LIES.

“Working” versus “Not Working,” (Ha! HAA!) Two Months In

So, a few months ago I wrote about how I thought going back to work full-time after the SAHM gig, and even though some of the comments I got were ROUGH on me personally, I wanted to update you all, because I feel like maybe there’s a lack of information about all of this, at least in my little corner of the Internet, about this transition. This post is a little bit dry, but I think it’s important to keep people updated that this parenting thing continues to be HARD, and no, it is not just you.

So.

Ever since Sachin started kindergarten, I’ve been writing from home every free second I can get. The kids are only gone for six hours a day, so I have to make up some time on the weekends and the evenings. I usually wake up, walk the dog, let out the chickens, make the kids’ lunches, make the kids’ breakfasts, eat my own breakfast, unload the dishwasher, clean up the kitchen, get the kids dressed, get myself dressed, put in a load of laundry, and then take them to school. Then I come home and write, or pitch, or edit, or blog, or answer emails, or what-have-you.

I stop to have a small lunch and snack in the middle of the day, to change the laundry from the washer to the dryer, to do a little house tidying, and to give our dog a ten minute walk. I go and pick up the boys, and usually I work for another hour while they play, and then we sit down and do homework and read together, and then I get dinner ready and the day winds down.

I am also still the one who, outside of these working hours, is mainly responsible for: food prep and cooking for all meals, grocery shopping, doctor and vet visits, daily cleaning, homework help, laundry, all errand-running, any volunteering, field trips, play dates, extracurricular activities the boys have during the week and probably a few other things I am forgetting.

Gregg vacuums and mops the whole house on Saturday, pays the bills and does the filing, takes the boys to soccer games, reads and puts the boys to bed, and does the dinner dishes about 85% of the time (sometimes the boys request his presence with Lego building or video game playing, and then I do the dishes while he does this). It is not like he is not helping, but he is out of the house almost sixty hours a week, so there’s only so much the guy can do, unfortunately.

I am not making a lot of money. (Hearty chuckle.) I am learning a lot. I like it, but there’s a steep learning curve. I like the flexibility I have, but I don’t like how there’s always work I could be doing, either around the house or in my writing. There is, seriously, ALWAYS more work. Working for yourself is a never-ending job, and your employer pays really badly. I usually end up working on Saturday mornings, and sometimes on Sundays, but I’m trying to cut that out. I need a little break, because it makes me (quite literally) crazy to work so much. The only other non-grad-school time I’ve worked so much was when I was working two library jobs, and there was a span of a month where I worked every single day, including weekends, including some evenings.

I think I cried a lot.

This is a lot better than that, but it’s still a lot of work. (I am not complaining; I am explaining. I feel very privileged to get this opportunity to try all this out. But that doesn’t make it easy.) Here are things that I used to do as a stay-at-home mom that I don’t do any longer: exercise, bake, do craft projects with the kids, take them to museums and the zoo and on outings, severely limit their screen time, cook things from scratch, read more than two books a month.

Yo, my kids eat pre-packaged food a lot more than they used to. So do I. There was a week where I didn’t have time to eat lunch, so now I buy five terrible frozen bean burritos, microwave them, and eat them for lunch. I am a foodie, and this hurts my heart, but I am not willing to make my delicious homemade lunch every day. We eat a lot of ravioli and garden burgers and pizza, too. I am sure we are full to the brim of sodium. I do not monitor my kids’ eating habits nearly as much as I used to. We have a snack drawer and they eat, and that’s it. I used to, like, cut cheese into shapes and prepare a garnish for their snack plates, and now I throw them a box of Oreos. 

My kids played fewer video games, were more enriched, and had healthier snacks when I wasn’t working full-time. I have not figured out how to fit this in yet. So do I think it’s the “same,” “working” versus “not-working” (let’s have a hearty chuckle at that, parents, because kids are SO RELAXING AAAAH DON’T YOU JUST WANT TO CATER TO THEM ALL DAY?)?  NO. I do not do the same stuff. Not even close. It’s not BAD, what I do now versus what I did then. It’s just DIFFERENT. Not bad, not good, just different. Sure, the food was higher quality before, but their independence and self-reliance is higher now. How do I judge which is the way they *should* be? I can’t.

All of that said? It is GOOD. It is worth it. I am a happier human being. I am juggling things, and there have been a few fights between me and the kids. It’s been an adjustment, but they’re gaining a little more responsibility and empathy, and also a little more freedom. It was time, for all of us.

And yes, I would do it again. In a heartbeat. I like this. I’m busy every second. I miss exercising and baking. I am sure I will have to figure out how to fit in the important things (like seeing friends, and date nights, and reading more books to my kids). This is by no means how I think life will be from now until Sachin goes to college. And yes, it will probably always be hard.

And yes, I will keep trying, because I think that’s what I’m here to do. I’m here to be a mom and a writer, and I’ll figure out how to both things well, but maybe not at the same time. That’s okay.

Answers to Search Engine Questions

Why are elbows so strong?

Elbows do lots of cardio and weight training, drink whey protein powder every single day, and they cut down on white sugar and flour. They also look smokin’ in a bikini.

I only like men like Edward Cullen and Christian Grey. What’s wrong with me?

You’re a person alive in the world today where these guys are portrayed as hot and sexy and responsible and caring by millions of men and women, so: nothing. Nothing is wrong with you. If that’s what you like? Go with it. Just don’t get hurt.

Funny nicknames for brown people?

We like brownie and dothead!

I hate camping. Reading?

I hate camping too. Yeah, I am reading. How’d you know that? Are you spying on me? Are you EDWARD CULLEN? *swoon* That’s pretty dreamy. I hope you’ve been standing in that dark corner all night.

What do endorphins feel like?

Smooth! And they like to jump up and squeal and do tricks if you feed them fish.

What’s wrong with people who don’t like cats?

They haven’t been spending enough time on the Internet.

Love my bitches?

I totally do.

Safety Not Guaranteed

(Alternate title: “Shalini’s Sunday Morning Pep Talk.”)

One of the reasons that it took me so long to publish a novel is because I was scared. I still am scared, on a very visceral level, every single day. I am scared of people not liking it. I am scared of being judged. I am scared I am not good enough. I am scared of bad reviews, poor star ratings, people snickering about me behind my back. I spent a lot of yesterday sick in bed because a side effect of an SSRI, and I googled, “how to deal with bad reviews,” a whole bunch.

I haven’t actually gotten that many bad reviews, I think because: 1) I targeted my book cover, my blurb, my content toward a very specific audience, and wrote to it in the best of my abilities. I am not trying to cater to Alice Munro fans or John Irving fans or Clive Cussler fans or George R.R. Martin fans. (I should disclaim that I am not a fan of any of those authors, because, duh, if I was, I would try to be, in some sense, writing to their audiences as well.)

I am trying to cater to men and women who love love stories, romantic tension, playing with the tropes of books or movies they’ve read and loved. Romance and chick lit readers are my people, because those are the books that I could read and reread without getting tired of them. For the most part I think I’ve succeeded.

And also, I think, 2) my book is pretty good.

This takes a lot out of me to say. You know me and my self-esteem aren’t the best of friends. Or maybe you don’t, but we’re not. I am trying to believe in myself more, though, because I’ve heard lots of writing teachers say, “If you’re not crazy about your writing, why expect anyone else to be?” Oh. Yeah.

I am pretty crazy about my own writing. I feel like a pompous ass saying that, but I’m going to say it until I don’t feel that way. I’m also going to say, “I deserve success,” until I believe it. It may take eighty years. I hope I get there with this one.

This morning I woke up with a renewed energy to not take SSRIs that make me sick, and also a stomach full of anxiety butterflies. I am dealing with them by writing to you, Sunday morning friends (or later, RSS friends), and by reading Martha Beck. I love me some Martha Beck. The thing I am discovering the most that she and other researchers say is something along the lines of, “The secret to _______ is happiness.”

The secret to finding your mate is to be happy with yourself first.

The secret to being successful is to be happy doing what you’re doing first.

The secret to being fit and healthy is to be happy with your body first.

The opposite doesn’t work. The secret to happiness isn’t success, or a thin body, or to find your soul mate. These are not the reversible chemical reactions, except perhaps that the secret to happiness is happiness.

Did you know all complex natural processes are irreversible?

So, as I was thinking about how to deal with bad reviews, whether I want to do this again because, like, two people said terrible things and dozens others said lovely things, is whether I was happy doing this. Am I happy writing these novels?

This is different than, “Is it fun?” or “Is it easy?” or “Are you a success?”

And yes, I am happy. I enjoy making ways to make my own stomach flutter. I enjoy finding new ways to increase romantic tension. I love writing dreamy men and women. (Wait until you meet my new guy, Wesley. *sigh*)

There, that’s it, in that dreamy sigh. When I think about what I’m doing, I’m happy. Not the result. The action. The irreversible reaction is building. It’s exothermic! Entropy is increasing, right this second, right here in my dreamy sigh!

And the other thing is: people were already snickering about me behind my back, saying mean things. I don’t know why, but that’s not really the point. The point is, whether I do this thing or not, it’s not going to affect how they think about me. I’m not trying to get those people to like me, because that’s an impossible task. I’m trying to be happy.

I am a people pleaser to the core, and I am, swear to God, a genuinely nice person. Mostly I’m shy and quiet. And I have a very thin skin, so it makes it hard to be bold and brave. But not everyone is going to like me. Not in my writing, not in my blogging, not in life. 

Safety not guaranteed.

Everyone gets bad reviews. (This is different than criticism. I really do want to improve my writing, or I wouldn’t have worked with editors or an agent or beta readers, or take to heart when people tell me something about my writing that resonates with me, and I go, “hmm, you’re right.” Who doesn’t want to be better at what they do? Wheezywaiter says it best, on why we need critics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5kPYor3zGw).

I’m going to write and write and write, and (I hope) get better and better. I’m sure I’m going to get more readers, and also more people that don’t like me. And I’m sure I’m going to get my ass kicked.

Safety not guaranteed.

I’m going to do it anyway, because it makes me happy, just like I write here for that very same reason.

I guess that the irreversible chemical reaction is already taking place. Stand back, it might get dangerous over here.

Why I Read

I read because it is an escape from my own life.

I read to get the fluttery feelings of falling in love over and over again, which is my favorite feeling in the world.

I read to have a good cry.

I read to learn to be a better writer.

I read to learn to be a better reader.

I read, most importantly, to have fun.

I read to learn about how to cope with my own life in ways I never expected.

I don’t read for descriptions (you can call me Hemingway-esque in this way, but I despise long descriptions).

I don’t read to understand grammar or sentence structure or literary allusion.

I don’t read to judge what other people are reading, but when I find someone who likes the same books I do? We’re bound to be friends.

And I don’t think this is a right or wrong list, so why do you read?

PS it’s my birthday today! If you want to give me a present AND you’re a lover of contemporary romance, think about buying my book?

(I continue to promise to not be offended if you don’t read romance novels and don’t want to read it, as long as you promise not to be offended that I am probably not going to read Eragon or anything with a serial killer or a world war at the center of the plot. I would, in fact, prefer you to NOT read it if you don’t like romance, because I want to avoid reactions like one I got that was, “But where are the robots???”)

(Yes. That really happened.)

Top Ten Romantic Films

I am cranky today, and the only thing that’s going to make me happier right this second, besides a tub of frosting and a cup of coffee with hazelnut creamer, is romance. Like, Gilbert Blythe style romance. I thought I’d make a top ten list of swoonworthy romantic movies, and THEN? THEN you could tell me what I was missing, and then I could have the best weekend ever watching them! (In my imagination, where I have time to sit down and watch a dozen movies in a weekend. New life list goal: have a rom-com weekend.)

So! Here!

10. Anne of Green Gables miniseries.

This isn’t really for any reason except Gilbert Blythe. Duh. Look at them together.

9. Before Sunrise

Ethan Hawke, on a train, in all his nineties glory.

8. When Harry Met Sally

I don’t really think “Billy Crystal” and “hot romantic lead,” which is why this movie is SO GREAT. Because you just want them together SO MUCH. So, so well written. RIP Nora Ephron, Queen of Rom Com. (Did you catch in LOST AND FOUND that Cliff’s last name is “Burns”? That’s a hat tip to Harry Burns.)

7. 10 Things I Hate About You

It is probably the scene where Heath Ledger sings, “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You,” that is responsible for me not understanding that dating wasn’t really like that. Sorry, Gregg.

6. Once

I watched this movie as a fluke because it totally didn’t seem like something I would like and then at the end I was crying and all, “What? WHAT?” Kind of perfect in every way.

5. Strictly Ballroom

Baz Luhrmann is my Secret Crazy Person Soulmate. Shh, don’t tell him, it’s a secret. This movie is so weird in exactly the right way.

If you were good friends with me in high school, there is a good chance we watched this movie on repeat together. And that was when we had to manually rewind VHS tapes. That is called true love.

4. Funny Face

I probably just like this movie for nostalgia-sake, because the idea that anyone thought Audrey Hepburn was funny looking is just so wrong. Still, it’s lovely and silly.

3.  Say Anything

Do I need to explain this? I hope not.

2. Lars and the Real Girl

Okay, this isn’t really a romance, but anyone would fall in love with Lars after this movie. ANYONE.

1. About a Boy

 

So, I kind of hate Real Life Hugh Grant, and I didn’t love the novel About a Boy, and the romance part of this film isn’t even at the center of it, and yet I could watch this movie over and over and over again and still cry happy tears at the ending. It is, I think, my closest version of the truth of what love is.

In closing that list, I realize there are dozens I could have included–Amelie! Juno! 500 Days of Summer! Princess Bride! Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind!

Now your turn. Give me a suggestion or five so I can swoon my way through the weekend?

 

 

Life as a Dog; Another $50 Amazon gift card giveaway [closed]

 

 

 

[image error]

My dog has been trying to cheer me up lately. He brought me a Tootsie Roll the other day, nudging it forward with his nose. “That’s cat poop you dug up from outside,” I said in disgust. Out loud. While home alone with a dog. Because this is my life.

He nudged it closer as if to say, Yes! Isn’t life grand? 

Then he turned around in a circle three times and wagged his tail, as if to say, Turning around in a circle is the best thing that has ever happened to me. 

Then he ate his Tootsie Roll. He said with his twinkling eyes, It’s delicious. 

I waver between thinking that I want to be reincarnated as a dog, and thanking the universe that I don’t eat feces for fun. But I’m still leaning toward the reincarnation. He looked pretty happy, and he doesn’t even have access to Zoloft.

***

Hey, remember my giveaway last week? Today I’m doing another one. Teeny marshmallows! $50 Amazon gift card! Magnets that look like mustaches! Aaaand a print copy of my book. (You can also buy a print copy here now.) The only catch is that this one is only for readers of LOST AND FOUND (edited to add: you don’t have to be finished! Or started! It’s for PURCHASERS of Lost and Found, to say THANK YOU) (and yessss, you can totally buy it and then enter this giveaway. It’s…kind of the point! To encourage the em-buyening! Check out the Lost and Found page up top or on the side for where to order).

I can’t exactly track you down and ask you if you’ve read it, so just be honest. One entry per person, but two if you’ve reviewed it somewhere.

 

Rules: I do not give a fig where you live. I will ship it! (Ha.) Please enter no matter your country. Please use a valid email address. I will close comments on Friday at 2pm PST (PDT?) (you know what I mean), and then email the winner.  I am probably forgetting some rules. Oh well.

 

Life as a Dog; Another $50 Amazon gift card giveaway

 

 

 

[image error]

My dog has been trying to cheer me up lately. He brought me a Tootsie Roll the other day, nudging it forward with his nose. “That’s cat poop you dug up from outside,” I said in disgust. Out loud. While home alone with a dog. Because this is my life.

He nudged it closer as if to say, Yes! Isn’t life grand? 

Then he turned around in a circle three times and wagged his tail, as if to say, Turning around in a circle is the best thing that has ever happened to me. 

Then he ate his Tootsie Roll. He said with his twinkling eyes, It’s delicious. 

I waver between thinking that I want to be reincarnated as a dog, and thanking the universe that I don’t eat feces for fun. But I’m still leaning toward the reincarnation. He looked pretty happy, and he doesn’t even have access to Zoloft.

***

Hey, remember my giveaway last week? Today I’m doing another one. Teeny marshmallows! $50 Amazon gift card! Magnets that look like mustaches! Aaaand a print copy of my book. (You can also buy a print copy here now.) The only catch is that this one is only for readers of LOST AND FOUND (edited to add: you don’t have to be finished! Or started! It’s for PURCHASERS of Lost and Found, to say THANK YOU) (and yessss, you can totally buy it and then enter this giveaway. It’s…kind of the point! To encourage the em-buyening! Check out the Lost and Found page up top or on the side for where to order).

I can’t exactly track you down and ask you if you’ve read it, so just be honest. One entry per person, but two if you’ve reviewed it somewhere.

 

Rules: I do not give a fig where you live. I will ship it! (Ha.) Please enter no matter your country. Please use a valid email address. I will close comments on Friday at 2pm PST (PDT?) (you know what I mean), and then email the winner.  I am probably forgetting some rules. Oh well.

 

Why I Cancelled My Weight Watchers’ Account

[image error]

 

I have been following a “weight maintenance” plan for a few months. I don’t want to lose any weight, but every time I stop paying attention, I tend to get a little puffy on the edges, like someone took an eraser to my cheekbones and legs. I was all soft blurry lines. And I somehow saw this as bad.

So then I joined Weight Watchers online. I’ve done this a few times, joined for a few weeks, gotten “back on track” with my eating, and then quit. It works pretty well. I’m reminded, “Oh, right, fruits and vegetables and less dessert and wine. Right.” And that’s that.

Except this time I joined, used the tracker once, felt guilty for a month, and then, today, I cancelled my plan. Because (swear words coming delicate creatures) I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING COUNT POINTS. I don’t want points. I don’t want flex points or rewards for exercising. I don’t want to feel guilty for being an average woman who is aging with a slowing metabolism. I’ve been feeling guilty that I’m, basically, not a 25 year old.

GLORY BE. There have never been better blessings than NOT being 25 (sorry 25 year olds, but, “It gets better, etc, blah blah blah”).

I know you are smarter than me and have figured this out already, but food is a blessing.

Eating is a blessing.

It is one of the best parts of being alive, in my opinion. And dieting (for me, with no health issues) is DUMB. It’s like refusing to be with the person you love, or read the books you love, or wear the clothes you want. It’s self-shaming. I let go of the rest of self-shaming a long time ago, but I never quite let go of the food thing. Because my identity used to be, “That really skinny girl.” And now, when people see my really skinny boys, they say, “They must get it from their dad! Har har!” And I say, “Yup!” because I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING COUNT POINTS so people know they got it from me, so I can keep the skinny girl persona, so I can buy a size small top instead of a size medium or (gasp) sometimes a size large. (I can’t even shop at Forever 21. Nothing fits! That place was not made for non-anorexic tall girls.)

It’s okay that I’m a size medium-to-large and I used to be an extra-small-to-small. I aged. I got a little pudge. I still look fantastic. And today I drank a glass of wine AND ate a Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut bar, and I am not going to feel guilty for it any more than I’m going to feel guilty for liking romance novels or loving my very geeky not-Indian husband or saying that I like raw broccoli and Ranch dressing better than roasted broccoli (I don’t care what you think! La la la! I’m not listening!).

It felt like I was apologizing for aging well, for existing, for enjoying life. That’s dumb, and so is the saying, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,” because as a former skinny girl, I can tell you, feeling skinny is the worst. You’re always fucking hungry.

But not me. I shall never go hungry again!

(Until the next time I need reminding of all of the above.)