On Seeking Frobriety.

It’s something I know I need to do.

For myself. For my family. For our ability to continue to function as normal human beings.

We need space between us and Frozen.

We need to admit that we are powerless over Let it Go and that our lives have become unmanageable with frozen fractals all around.

We need to realize that Frozen is a power greater than ourselves. And that is dangerous. So we need to find a power greater than Frozen. And there is only one. An act of true love – no wait.

We need to turn our will and our lives over to God for His help in fighting the curse of Do You Want to Build a Snowman being stuck on endless repeat in our heads like a Lamb Chops song on Crystal Meth.

This guy? Represents the monster that Froddiction can become.

Frozen Addiction

And it’s time we get Frober.

We started with baby steps.

When the kids would ask to listen to the soundtrack in the car, I would say….no.

It’s Mommy’s turn to pick the music.

This, of course, was met with wails of shock and terror, beggings, DTs, and inconsolable depression.

I would turn my music up louder to drown out the children in their time of suffering.

They would sing over the top, constantly cranking up their volume, shrieking with the ferocity previously only reached by Idina Menzel.

“CONCEAL, DON’T FEEL, DON’T LET THEM KNOW!!! WELL NOW THEY KNOW!!!!!!”

 

The eldest child began questioning my judgment with a desperate whimper in her tone, “But Mommy. Why would you do this to us?”

“We need a day without Frozen.”

She gasped, and sounding just like Elsa upon finding out that Arendelle was frozen over, said, “What?! I don’t remember a day without Frozen!!”

“I know, honey. I know. I need you to trust me that I know what is best for you.”

But my efforts can do little against the power of Frozaholism. Because once it has eaten its way into your children’s souls, no one can truly escape – not them, not you, not the cat.

Every night, after putting Ali to bed, we hear her belting the entire soundtrack word for word and frightfully out of tune, most assuredly standing atop her bed with her arms out and injuring her vocal cords beyond repair.

And Noah. Noah’s favorite song is the intro song, and he knows every syllable, and mutters them in perfect pitch under his breath in a continuous loop.

“na na na heya na…. ha heya ah na ah…na heya heya na ya oh ah ah na heya oh no ah na….”

While he’s eating lunch…

“na na na heya na…. ha heya ah na ah…na heya heya na ya oh ah ah na heya oh no ah na….”

While he’s sitting on the toilet…

“na na na heya na…. ha heya ah na ah…na heya heya na ya oh ah ah na heya oh no ah na….”

While he’s riding in the car…

“na na na heya na…. ha heya ah na ah…na heya heya na ya oh ah ah na heya oh no ah na….”

While he’s watching Thomas the Train at the insistence of his Father…

“na na na heya na…. ha heya ah na ah…na heya heya na ya oh ah ah na heya oh no ah na….”

While I’m trying to talk on the phone…

“NA NA NA HEYA NA…. HA HEYA AH NA AH…NA HEYA HEYA NA YA OH AH AH NA HEYA OH NO AH NA!!!!!!”

 

We will continue our journey to recovery, but one of those steps is admitting powerlessness. It’s true – I don’t know what is to become of our family.

Will we be able to find the right kind of help to free us from this gripping Froddiction?

Will we achieve a day of Frobriety?

Will my children grow up thinking that all Snowmen like warm hugs?

It’s impossible to know for certain. Because once it lives inside their soul, it’s impossible to truly detoxify. Which is why if you drive by our house on any random day, you’ll most likely see this: