Dear Frozen: You Are The Bane of My Existence | Confessions of a Stay-At-Home Mom

May 2, 2014

Dear Frozen: You Are The Bane of My Existence

It started off innocently enough.

We were latecomers to the whole Frozen phenomenon. Chica is particularly sensitive to intense, sad or scary movies, and had requested to not see the movie in the theatres. I knew we'd see Frozen eventually, and with each passing week, Chica seemed more and more interested in watching it. The kids in her class were talking about it, and a few months after the movie came to theaters, she had the entire plot (sad and scary story lines included) memorized from the stories her classmates told her.

So, when it was released on DVD, we got it. And the girls watched it. And loved it. They immediately wanted the soundtrack, so I obliged by downloading it to iTunes. I won't lie, I was digging the Broadway-caliber songs too.

And it was all great and happy and sunny.

Until it wasn't.

Because Frozen became the topic of every conversation. They wanted to watch the film several times a day. And every time we got into the car, the Frozen soundtrack was the first thing they requested to hear.

After a month of listening to the Frozen soundtrack non-stop, my ears are all but bleeding. I used to love indulging their music requests. I used to love singing along. But my initial joy has turned to a mission to destroy the music I once loved.

Too much of a good thing is always a bad thing.

The moment my girls hear the jingle of keys, they are alerted to the fact that we will be taking the car somewhere. I know what is coming next, and even as I grab the car door handle I hope against hope this time they won't ask. We settle into our seats and I bring the ignition to life. Then it begins.

Can we listen to Frozen?

Stupidly, I always try to reason with them.

Haven't you listened to Frozen enough this week? How about something else?

My question is met with blank stares.

Nope. We love Frozen. We want Frozen!

With a few quick swipes of my fingers, the familiar (and now haunting) melodies blast through the car speakers.

And a little piece of me withers and dies.

My thoughts become jumbled and my emotions irrational.


I don't want to build a snowman, thankyouverymuch.


My empathy for Elsa has all but disappeared. Hey Elsa: Stop moping around. You are gifted, you sullen entitled princess. People would give anything to have superpowers like yours. If I had a superpower I wouldn't go around crying about it.

“Oh boo-hoo, I have the ability to fly and become invisible. Woe is me.

Suck it up, girlfriend.

And the Trolls. Heaven help me. I never understood why they were created as part of the story in the first place. Think about it: you can remove them and the movie still works, amiright? What qualifies them as Love Experts anyway? After hearing Fixer Upper approximately 1,624,309 times, I want nothing more than to eradicate their entire species. Especially that little one that notes in the most irritating of voices, “By the way, I don't see no ring.” 


It has me stressing other areas of my life as well. Because I can't listen to Frozen without thinking of my in-my-mind BFF Kristen Bell. Which makes my me think of Dax Shepherd. Which only takes my thoughts to Parenthood, of course. And my stomach does flip-flops because they can't cancel Parenthood.


I digress.

The once heartfelt album is making me unhinged, one Nordic reindeer at a time. The notes haunt my dreams (or should I say nightmares?). I need to reclaim my iTunes, my music, my car rides lest I be overcome all together. I have music needs to, people! Old 97's "Hit By A Train" is calling to me, and it's just out of my listening reach.

So, Frozen

I'm giving you fair warning. Although Olaf may like it, I'm turning up the heat. And if you can't handle the heat, it's time ot get out of the kitchen.

I'm ready to Let It Go, baby.

We're breaking up, Frozen.

And it's not me.

It's so you.

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