Why Do Disney Movies Always Kill Off The Moms?

Frozen

When Frozen came out and everyone was raving, I thought about taking my three-year-old daughter to her first movie. The reviews said the film was smart, with strong female heroines and great music.  I could almost taste the popcorn and Milk Duds until I read a little further and found out the main characters’ parents were lost at sea, never to return. Oh Disney, you’ve done it again: you killed Mommy!

Disney movies have been murdering moms since the 1940s, when Bambi’s mother was shot dead by a hunter The world was at war back then, so traumatic loss could have been a reflection of the times.  Except Disney didn’t stop there. Quasimodo’s mom was felled by an angry mob. The Little Mermaid’s mom was killed by pirates. Nemo’s mom was eaten.  Not cool, Disney.

Even when mom isn’t blatantly killed off, she’s frequently MIA. Did Sleeping Beauty or Belle from Beauty and The Beast have moms? Not that I could tell, which is odd since someone must have taught those princesses how to coordinate their outfits and blow dry their hair.

To be fair, Disney doesn’t only have it in for moms. Fathers are dispatched with violently in The Lion King (trampled by a herd), Mulan (killed by Huns) and The Princess and The Frog (killed in battle).  Sometimes Disney characters are completely orphaned and forced to live with an evil stepmother (Cinderella) or a tribe of moody dwarves (Snow White).

So why does Disney keep offing parents?  I can think of a few reasons…

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The Accidental Pinterest Mom

When I started making preschool lunches last fall, I perused Pinterest for meal ideas and promptly hyperventilated and passed out.

Where the hell did these Pinterest moms get all their time and energy?

Elmo lunch

 Were these moms all on drugs, and if so, where could I get some?

hot dog octopus

Then yesterday, I was trying to solve a sandwich problem.  I noticed my kid wasn’t eating her crusts and there was no way I was going start making four extra cuts every day at 7 am.

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I figured a large round cookie cutter could do the crust removal job for me in one fell swoop.  The only cookie cutter I could find, wedged between some crusty baking pans and the cloth napkins I use biannually, was one with scalloped edges.

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Even reduced to a squiggly circle, her sandwich still didn’t look bite sized, so I cut it in half before sending it on its way.

That afternoon, when I checked my kid’s lunch box, I was astonished to see that the food was all gone.

“Honey, you liked your sandwich?” I asked skeptically.

“Yes Mommy! Make the dinosaurs again tomorrow!”

Dinosaurs?  WTF?

And that’s when I realized that I had accidentally made Stegosaurus sandwiches.

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stegosaurus

How you like me now, Pinterest? Booya.

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You Take The Cake

Dear Viv,

I know wedding planning hasn’t been that fun for you.

Lots of long car rides, boring meetings and time-consuming bridal indecision.

Plus, grown-ups are always telling you not to touch anything, like that’s a reasonable request.

I hope we made it up to you today.

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Baby Owl was a fan of Triple Berry Cream.

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Uncle Owl seemed to prefer Dulce de Leche.

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But we’re a chocolate family, aren’t we, girlfriend?

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Thanks for your continued services as our Mini Wedding Planner.

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Love,

Mom & Dad

 

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My Baby Daddy Left Me On Facebook

The father of my child just abandoned me—on Facebook, that is.

Amy and Dave on Facebook thumbs down

He quit the social media machine, claiming it’s a time-suck that has gotten less personal and more annoying over the years.  I think he’s crazy.  Without Facebook, how would I know which Scandal character I most resemble or what my old boss had for breakfast this morning?

I’m a pretty active Facebook user, so it bothers me that my partner in life is not my partner online.  He’s missing my witty one-liners, my Throwback Thursday photos (Hi-oh, slutty Halloween costumes!) and all the cute kid pics I post for the pure joy of it, and not at all as narcissistic “like” bait.

Viv in PJs

Do you like me?

On Valentine’s Day, when my feed was flooded with everyone else’s boastful declarations of love, I felt a little left out.  I mean, if you can’t tag your boyfriend, are you really in a relationship?

Plus, social media updating can be hard work, and I’m carrying the full load.  As the sole representative of our family on Facebook, I’m responsible for ALL the Happy Birthday messages to our friends, ALL the RSVP’s to parties and ALL the “liking.” Oh, that liking.  My fingertips are raw!  Online relationship maintenance is clearly a two-person job.  I don’t think my fiancé quite appreciates all that I do for him, on Facebook.

Finish reading at mom.me and if you like it, please LIKE it on Facebook–even though Dave will never see it–because I get cool points and the occasional bonus from my employer.  Gratzi!

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Mom Falls for Oldest Trick In The Book

Viv gets up at 5:30 this morning.  This is early even for her.  I plop her in front of Dora and go to make a gallon of coffee.

Mom, can I have scissors and paper for cutting?

Oh, thank God, my kid has picked today to finally start entertaining herself, and with crafts!  Mama could not be prouder.

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Mooooooom.

One sec, honey.  Making coffee.

Moooooooom.

Be right there, babe.

Mooooooooom. 

What is it, honey?

I cut my hair.

You WHAT????

I cut my hair. 

Before I see her, I spot the pile of hair on the floor.

Cue soundtrack from Psycho in my head:

Reeeeeee!  Reeeeee!  Reeeeee!

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hair crop

hair super crop

Aww fuuuuuuuumbleduck.

I raise my eyes slowly from the hair.

Viv is going to be our Flower Girl this summer.

Please, God, not a pixie cut.

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And somehow, she’s managed to cut perfectly side-swept bangs.

Perhaps she has a career in styling.  Perhaps my heart will slow down to a normal rate sometime this week.  Perhaps scissors, even the child-safe kind, are to be viewed as no less dangerous than a flaming machete.

Amateur.

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