Wherein I fixate on something ridiculous…


Sometimes I can be an extremist.

Sort of.

Ok, just about the ridiculous. I’m pretty laid-back about politics, the news, excessive use of ‘adorbs’. But get me started on girl shit? Queue picture of Mike rolling his eyes and making a calm down gesture.

I have all sorts of ridiculous issues with princess crap, baby dolls, pink, those ridiculous monkeys with flowers in their ‘hair’ that seem to adorn so many of baby girl clothes. Please do not get me started on clothing that is covered in lipstick, makeup and other shit. Gag.

And then along came Eleanor….. And she had other ideas. She likes to snuggle. EVERYTHING. Everything has a name. And the name is the same for everything. Its babo. And i don’t know what that means. She likes to carry things like a purse. She likes to carry purses. I bought her a purse. She is the extreme opposite of her brother. I both love and hate it. I’m conflicted. Ugh.

And today? Netflix introduced me to something silly staring Mice. And those mice were acting sexy, drinking beer and had breasts.

What. The. Fuck.

Vincent was transfixed. Eleanor was busy pooping in a corner, mixing things in a bowl or trying to ‘pat’ the dog and could have cared less. Thank god.

I am so obsessive about the messages that are sent to girls via media. Almost more so than the messages that are sent to boys. Ok. Way more so. Total confession. But probably I need to be as focused on both. Or, even better, I clearly need to block these super shitty animated movies. With mice that have boobs. (Let’s ignore my Jem and the Holograms addiction, k?)

I guess the whole point here is that it weirds me out. Princess shit weirds me out. Dancing monkeys weird me out. Neon elephants? Totally ok. Hello Kitty? Borderline. I lived in Japan for 3 years, it’s a secret fetish.

Perhaps it’s because I spent 4 years with a little boy and so was pretty comfortable with non-girlcentric things. I don’t even know, but I know I was terrified when I had Eleanor that my life would be overrun with Disney shit. And as she grows, I find my self more and more drawn to bits and pieces of it. Living in Orlando, Florida and being married to a man that has direct access to the parks makes it hard.

Hitting the parks and seeing 6 year olds dressed up like Princess Jasmine makes me think of hookers. Right? I know

Seeing women dressed like Minnie who are 60 scares me.

I both love and hate these ridiculous girl things. Maybe on the same level as I love and hate all of the ridiculous boy things.

And then? Eleanor learned about Minnie. Of all things Disney, I hate her the most. Oh and Daisy Duck. Ok, so Minnie Mouse and Daisy Duck are in my most hated column. I hate them SO much. So, guess how much Eleanor loves Minnie?


She calls her ‘MiiMii’, hugs her like its her own soul and side-eyes me while she’s doing so as if to say “Hey. Hey MOM. (Yes I know how much you hate it when I call you MOM.) I LURVE Minnie. More than you.”

And so yesterday, while we were out running errands, what did i do? I bought her a ridiculous pair of Minnie pjs that came with a tutu. What the fuck is wrong with me. I am one conflicted soul. I wonder if this is how all mothers feel who had a boy first… Did I just unknowingly join a club?! Is there a handshake? Do I need a Disney vaccine?

Save me please.

As always, love and hugs (and sanity)