ZOMBIE Mom.

Patty Sullivan on Twitter asked me if I'd do a drawing of a Zombie Mom for a project she was working on. I'd already done a series on Zombie Appliances and I thought a parody of The Evolution of Man would be hilarious as The Evolution of Zombie Mom.

Just before Mother's Day I started thinking it would be really fun to animate the Zombie Mom evolving. The phased degeneration of the walk-cycle appealed to me as an animator. Then the 13 year old boy came down with a pretty horrifying case of stomach flu and kept me up all night all week with the barfs. This literally brought me back to my early daze as a mother and I found myself moaning, lurching and craving brains.

Needless to say I was too "undead" to get the animation together for Mother's Day. BUT I think this will work in my favor because while Mother's Day only comes once a year, ZOMBIE Mom's Day is, let's face it, every single one of those other 364 days.

So tadaaa, here's my video:



Zombies are fun to draw. Up til now I've only been an animator. Now....I'm a re-animator. Ha.

If you feel like the walking dead because of a child in your life, Zombie-moms.com is for you. Patty Sullivan and some friends put together this site where sleep-deprived parents can go for advice, support and stories. Jump into their tweetstream on the #ZombieMoms hashtag.

Irony: I was so out of it I didn't notice that the Patty I've been emailing about zombies is THE Patty from Kids' CBC. Yeah, she's an award winning tv broadcaster and bonafide celeb and my kids adored her. How did I not realize it was her?? I blame the zombie virus.

Happy ZOMBIE Mom's Day!! What's the most undead thing you've done as a parent?

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Mom Super-Powers.

The ten-year-old boy is now thirteen. That means we now have three (3) teenagers in the house.

CRIKEY. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN.

A rhetorical question.  Actually it wasn't even a question (I didn't put a question mark, did I?) ...more of a "wondering aloud". Seems like only yesterday, I myself was but thirteen, and not entertaining any deep thoughts beyond figuring out how to dance without making people laugh and point.

Nonetheless, here am I, on yet another Mother's Day, reflecting on my three children. The  thirteen year old boy loves comics (especially Spiderman); superheros with superpowers are a big topic of conversation around here.

This is one example:

He's always so eager at this point in the conversation. It's really cute.

Actual. Tears.

What Spidey said, dude.

When given a choice of what my super-power would be, I always answer, "The power to heal, my son" cuz check that out yo. That would be epic...you ain't got no problems if you got your health. Give folks their health, make the world better. And so on.

Well anyways, Happy Mother's Day. What would your super-power be?

PS. I've decided to be a little more personal with my blog. 

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You Shall NOT Pass.

This was me last week.

I was on my way to deliver a keynote in the USA; to make a few hundred really nice people laugh, smile and hopefully leave them inspired by my drawings and my message.

But I never made it...

Have  you ever wanted something very, very much, and just when it's within your grasp it slips away?

You're allowed to grieve for a bit. And then you move on.

The silver lining: The thing I thought I wanted wasn't the thing I actually wanted. I already have that thing and it's right here inside me.

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Bathus Interruptus.

Aaaaah...! At last, a nice hot bath all to myself. Or so I thought.

Seriously? In desperation,I call on Lady Liberty herself, the most immoveable symbol of personal freedom I can think of, to essentially imprison myself in this bathroom in the name of performing my ablutions uninterrupted.

As usual, the Lords of Irony have the last word.

How do you  get your "ME" time?

This story appeared on Aiming Low.

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Spring. And dogs.

Ah yes! Spring in Montreal! The long hard winter is over and the snow melt reveals some pretty amazing gems.

I say “gems” but I really mean (dare I say it) ...dog poop. Let's stick with "gems" shall we?

Usually I pick up after the dog soon after she goes out in the garden. But when the temperature drops, the idea of venturing out into sub-zero Canadian winter in my pajamas is less than appealing. So as the dog lays her eggs, I let the snow fall and cover it.

I warn the kids of the dangers of building a snowman. I wait patiently until spring. I look out the window and admire the pure, white, freshly fallen blanket of snow masking the evil that lurks beneath.

The spring thaw yields layer upon layer of treasure. It resembles an archaeological dig: the snow melts enough to expose a few sparkling jewels at a time and I remove each layer over a period of weeks.

It’s normally hard going because the gems are cold and soggy; some even need to be dug out of the ice with a trowel.

An emphatically unglamorous activity.

This year however, I decided to refrain until all the snow melted. I waited for a dry day (today). Armed with my usual protective gear...

...and a zillion plastic bags... I went out to face what would surely be a bumper crop.

To my surprize, there were only half as many and the ones I found were half-sized hard little nuggets. Also, being dry, they didn’t smell.

Why, in twenty years of living with dogs, am I only just now discovering this?

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