Q:Why Don’t You Use Your Name on this Blog?
A: At first it was because when my kid was a baby and I wasn’t sleeping, I tended to be ridiculously private. Some (most) would have even called me reclusive. But after my initial crazies toned down, I realized that I preferred the broad relatability that comes with nameless characters. This family could be yours, or your neighbour’s, or any other family you know of that eats cereal off the floor and thinks a Robo-Scorpion would be the best new addition to the family.
Q:Where did you learn to draw?
A: In most ways, I feel like I haven’t. I liked to draw as a kid, but had mostly stopped doing it since. Somehow right after my kid was born, I suddenly became incredibly driven to pursue all kinds of interests that I had never acted on before, which most parents will agree amounts to a state of tragically comic self-torture. So, hopefully without going crazy, I’m trying my best to find bits of time here and there to practice, learn new skills, and make these comics. Either I really love to draw, or I really hate myself. Nah, it’s mostly the first one.
Q: Do you like your kid?
A: My kid is only two, so since I’m at little risk of him reading this, I can give an honest answer. Unfortunately, the answer is a boring, “Yes.” I take full advantage of his minimal English skills to mock him while he’s within earshot, but yeah, I do like my kid. I’m crazy about him.
Q:Do you get paid for this?
A: Good Lord, no. There are all kinds of things that I do in a day that I would like to be financially compensated for, and at least 3 of them involve cleaning up poop, but alas. I am just a technologically oblivious, haggardly-dressed mom, crouched in my basement late at night scratching out round-headed baby pictures with a pen and paper. I have yet to master my day enough to find the time to actively participate in most forms of social media, and I generally suck at flogging my stuff. Maybe I should go on Star Search. They still make that show, right?
Q: The name of the blog, “Put On Your Parenting Pants”—what does it mean? Where did it come from?
A: Not literally a pair of pants, if that’s what you’re wondering. My pregnancy was a complete surprise, and I felt totally unprepared emotionally and mentally to become a parent. I see now that a lot of that feeling was coming from the butt-load of craziness hormones coursing through my system while I was completely couchbound with morning sickness for 8 weeks of the darkest and snowiest winter we’ve seen since 1973, but still—I was scared. Somewhere during that time, I began to coach myself by saying that I WAS capable, I was up for this, I just had to stop worrying, put on my Parenting Pants, and jump in. Since then, it seems that my entire mothering career has been about refining and defining myself as a person, and putting on whatever mental or emotional gear I need to just get the job done right. Or at least as well as I can. Anyway, the phrase has kind of stuck.
Q: What’s your story? Is there a dad in the picture?
A: The story of how I met my kid’s father is crazy romantic (for another blog, maybe). But yes, there is a Dad, and he’s 90% of the reason why I’m here and coherent today. He makes appearances in comics from time to time, and I’d like to include him more in the future. But, the fact is, me and the kid spend almost every second together, since I’m a stay-at-home-mom right now and I am apparently poor at establishing healthy boundaries. Which means that even when I’m not watching him actively creating the stories, he’s pretty much infiltrated all my thoughts and I’m thinking about him, anyway. Art is usually forced to serve the regime in dictatorships.
Q: Why don’t you post more often?
A: It’s a lot of work! It may not look like it, but I bleed for these posts. I’m also, currently, doing most of these posts by hand, on paper, and then scanning them in. I know there are things called “tablets” but I’m agin ‘em. For now.
Q: Are your comics based on real things that happened?
A: Er, um. Almost always.
|The Mom. This is me. I had a kid. I am adjusting to parenthood about as well as a fish adjusts to life in the Sahara. |
Click here for all the posts featuring Me.
|This is that kid. He is, essentially, just a bad ape, since living with him is remarkably similar to living in a primate house—perhaps less peaceful. He was born in 2011. |
Click here for all the posts featuring The Kid.
|The Dad. Father to the ape, keeper of my sanity, protector of humour when all I can see is the poop on the carpet. |
Click here for all the posts featuring The Dad.
|Ernesto, the dog: an innocent victim. Likes carrots. |
Click here for all the posts featuring The Dog.
|The Pencil, which somehow, no matter how many times I take it away, always ends up back in my kid’s damn mouth.|
Click here for all the posts featuring The Pencil.
|The Scanner Fairy, who saved Bad Ape.com by bestowing unto me a scanner, during a dark age in which I had no way to produce an image other than to take photos of tiny (poorly rendered) sketches. In my desperation, I even taught myself how to use photoshop….|
Click here for all the posts featuring The Scanner Fairy.