Separated at Birth.

All my life I've had this feeling that I was somehow incomplete. And now I discover what I've always known to be true: PickleWeasel is my twin.

See how alike we are? (That's me on the right by the way.)

It's an amazing feeling.

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How self-publishing a book is like giving birth.

WARNING: Partial nudity.

As you know, I made a book. Making a book is just like making a baby. Perhaps not the making part...

...but probably the growing part. And most definitely, the pushing out part. Especially if you're self-publishing.

I won't lie to you; it's really fucking painful. Nothing can prepare you for the torture leading up to the actual release. And yes, you will probably shit yourself. (I decided not to draw that part because I am nice.)

You can beg and plead for an epidural or hardcore narcotics, or even pray that a falling piano will knock you out and take the pain away.

But you won't get any drugs, because you're self-publishing! Ha ha.

"I'll never have sex again!" you vow.

Yeah, yeah. Everyone says this while giving birth, but you can't deny that even as you endure the awful thunder in your blood, there's already a glimmer of another sexy book lurking in the creative soup of your consciousness.

And then, just when you think you can't take it anymore, there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Literally.

The book is about to launch - bear down! Bear down!
Give'er one last push.

Push!

PUSH!!

You did it! Your book is out!

And you're still alive.

Welcome to the World little one!

It's a goddamn miracle.

You're overcome with maternal joy. (Even if you're a dude.)

Congratulations on what seems to be a happy, healthy baby book, to have, to hold, and to share. Possibly even destined for the New York Times bestseller list - you never know, right?

Let's celebrate! Champagne! Enjoy the moment.

Because the real work has only just begun.

You have to keep the baby alive - feed it and give it lots of love and attention. By attention, I mean publicity; make sure folks know about the book-baby. Get that fucker out there!

Don't banish the baby to forgotten boxes in the dusty shadows of your garage or basement. You mustn't let the baby die! It's counting on you - you're all it's got.

And... don't forget the afterbirth!

Notes on self-publishing:

• It's not easy; but that doesn't mean you shouldn't do it.
• You probably won't make money; but that doesn't mean you shouldn't do it.
• Your first book might not be very good; but that doesn't mean you shouldn't do it. 
• Although self-publishing e-books is free, you will probably have to give up something you love. Like sleep. You might want to think about that one.

Life is short people. Go forth and tell your stories.

The LAST Snowman is my first book. These folks all yelled "PUSH!" and deserve my thanks. Smack me if I've forgotten someone...but not too hard, because I'm still post natal:

Jill Smokler AKA ScaryMommy, Annie @ PhD in Parenting, Tracy Beckerman from Lost in Suburbia.
Virginia, Mona, Gigi.
Sandi, Derek, Stephie, Brandie, Åsa, Kristin, Judy, Susie, Julia, Dean, Tracy, Tanya, Brooke, Scotty, Tanya, Susie, Julia, Virginia, Michael, Sarah.
Everyone who took the time to read my blog and tell me they liked it.
Uncle Simon, The Huz, all our children and my mom.

But most of all, I want to thank the fourteen-year-old girl.

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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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NINJA Foot Massage.

This is my older brother. For his birthday last year, we gave him a foot massage treat in Chinatown. Awesome. It took him a year to cash it in, due to him having a new baby, haha.

Me and The Huz went down there with him and had simultaneous foot massages. Those massage-therapists are amazing! They really beat the crap out of your feet, and they do all the victims patients in unison, like Kodo Drummers!

The Bro snored through the whole thing, prolly also due to him having a new baby.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY dude!

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