Happy Chaos

by Soleil Moon Frye

  Traditions are important in my family. We celebrated every type of holiday when I was growing up—Christmas, Hanukkah, Passover, Easter . . . as you can tell, my family was very open-minded. We believed in learning about other philosophies, and what better way to do that than to celebrate as many traditions as possible? One of my favorite memories was when I was about ten and we moved into a new neighborhood. My brother was going through his heavy-metal phase then. He had long, curly hair, and wore leopard stretch pants and ripped-up tank tops. I was always playing dress-up—you would find me wearing all sorts of funky cowboy boots—and my mom looked like something between a hippie and a rocker. We had cars picking us up at all hours because I was doing Punky at the time, and we were often traveling. Anyway, it was Easter and we were in the middle of one of our big Easter egg hunts when the neighbors called the police. They thought we were hiding drugs. Between the way we dressed, the cars, and the wacky hours we were keeping, they were sure that our family must be connected to some illegal activity.

  Jason and me on Santa’s lap when I was pregnant with Jagger

  That is just how we rolled in my family, unorthodox and always breaking the rules, or at least breaking them while carrying on traditions. I learned how to ride a motorcycle before a bicycle and I got to stay up late as a kid and watch my two favorite television shows: Dynasty and The Colbys. I feel like I had a great childhood, even if it was a unique one. People often ask me how I turned out so normal. Normal? Hmmm. I’m not sure if I would categorize myself as one hundred percent normal, and I’m not even sure I’d want to. But I have a happy and settled life, and I think more than anything it’s because we always had such a sense of family. My mom made sure that we were able to be kids—and that our house was the place that everyone escaped to, not from. And as far as she was concerned, the more of us packed into that house, the better. And just like all great traditions, they are meant to be carried on, and every day I try.

  Me on an Easter egg hunt in my rockin’ eighties clothes

  S.P.S.

  Hanaclaus . . .

  Of course, it’s not that unusual anymore for families to celebrate multiple traditions in one household. I grew up learning about all kinds of religious traditions, and my husband, Jason, was raised Jewish. We were married by a rabbi and love to visit the temple. We teach our kids to be open to all religions. We also take them to visit churches, and have Buddhas and a Ganesh in our home. In our household, we have very happily merged Hanukkah and Christmas, and I once received some really great advice: So as not to confuse the meanings of different traditions, you can devote different areas of the house to the symbols of those celebrations. So, for instance, maybe your family room is where you put the Christmas tree, and the dining room is where you put the menorah. Whatever works and makes everyone feel happy and respected.

  Celebrate a holiday your own way . . .

  Who said that Valentine’s Day has to be just about candy, hearts, and flowers? My brother and his amazing wife, Ilse, came up with a whole new way to celebrate Valentine’s Day, and now we do it every year. We take the kids on a scavenger hunt through the city. My brother and his wife make up all the clues and fill a canister with treats, and then we go with the kids to look for treasures. This is a great way to explore the outdoors while taking the little ones on an adventure. Geocaching is also super fun and a great thing to do with the whole family. We try to do them on a regular basis. If you want to find more about geocaching, here is the website: www.geocaching.com. It’s a blast!

  Our girls on one of their Valentine’s scavenger hunt adventures

  Not every tradition is a holiday . . .

  I think it’s incredibly powerful to have your own special traditions—things that you do together as a family. It really strengthens the bond. My husband had the amazing idea to designate Sunday as our family day. Every Sunday night we have a special family dinner and take time to talk about what we are grateful for. Sometimes we treat the girls to a special experience—like crab claws and Shirley Temples, which is so much fun. It is something that we all truly look forward to.

  6

  Perfectly Imperfect

  Question of the day: How are you most similar to and most different from your parents?

  “I am the most similar to them because I have the same morals and values that my parents do. I rely on family and friends the most. I am most different from them because I am a younger mother and I feel that I am closer to understanding my children and remembering how I felt at their ages. I think this will make for a better relationship between us as they grow up.”

  —Jeannette C.

  “I look like my mom and we have similar personalities. I’m impatient and disorganized like my dad. I voice my opinion more than my mom. I’m open-minded and a liberal, unlike my dad.”

  —Dana

  “I am sensitive like they are, but since I grew up and moved out, I am not narrow minded, I know that we all come from different walks of life and I try to be understanding of others when our opinions differ.”

  —Irene

  “I was one of those who said I was never ever going to be like my mom but I can tell you . . . say it all you want she is a part of you. My mom died in 2003 and I see a lot of her in myself. It is just little things like the way she did things, the way she moved or laughed.”

  —T Glass

  I was five years old the first time I remember my father taking me to Iowa to visit my aunt Carol and uncle Mel. We flew in very late, and on the way to my aunt and uncle’s house, we drove down a long highway. I was staring out the back window when my dad started shouting, “Pull over, pull over!” My aunt and uncle were perplexed as my uncle pulled the car over. My dad pointed out the window at an old overgrown graveyard. He turned to me and said, “ You know what that is, Soleil?” I replied, “No, Daddy, what is it?” My father excitedly said, “It’s a graveyard, want to go inside?” Sensing my father’s excitement, I said, “Sure.” We jumped out of the car as my aunt and uncle tried, with visible horror on their faces, to stop my father. But it was too late—he took my hand and we took off running through the graveyard, chasing each other at midnight under a full moon.

  My father was a real Renaissance man. He was an actor, an artist, a four-time Golden Gloves champion, and, most proudly, a civil rights activist. He, Marlon Brando, Paul New-man, and Tony Franciosa were known among many as the Hollywood Four for their work together during the civil rights movement. They went to Gadsden, Alabama, to fight for civil rights there, and then to the heart of Washington, D.C., to help lead the march on Washington with Martin Luther King, Jr. My father’s charisma and open heart were abundant. He was also completely unpredictable and believed that rules were meant to be broken.

  I loved spending the summer going on adventures with my dad to Iowa, where my aunt and uncle lived. We would eat corn for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and watch TV at night until the national anthem came on and the screen turned to fuzz. While I remember the laughter most, there were some parts of our trips that weren’t so funny. There was the time my father took me to the hair salon and decided it would be cute to make me look like Shirley Temple. So they put tight ringlets in my hair, and the curls stuck close to my head. It was horrendous. I looked more like a clown than Shirley Temple. My father proudly brought me home to my aunt, at which point I burst into tears.

  Most of my time with my father was full of joy, though—and summer tornadoes. One of my favorite tornado stories took place during a different summer, when I had gone to Iowa with my older brother Sean (my father’s son from his first marriage). Fifteen minutes after a broadcast of a tornado warning, my father had the bright idea to take us boating on the lake. My aunt absolutely forbade us to go outside. My dad never let a little danger deter him from what he wanted to do, so back and forth they argued until finally she gave in. I don’t know why my poor aunt ever bothered trying to argue with him—she always lost. He convinced everyone to take the boat out, and there we were in the m
iddle of the lake when the storm hit. The boat started spinning in insane circles, and the wind howled. My aunt was weeping and holding me like we were all going to die, my dad was laughing hysterically and I was laughing hysterically, and somehow we all survived.

  Here we are on the boat in Iowa before the tornado hit!

  It’s probably obvious to you by now that my dad wasn’t a father in some of the very traditional ways—he wasn’t the one to pay for school or come at Christmas with loads of Barbies. But he was the one who would make the most unbelievable fudge, wrap it in foil, and bring it to us on Christmas morning. Or he’d go to a garage sale and find a tiny treasure that he thought I would like, or just show up with roses for no reason. At Halloween he would decorate our pumpkins with the most incredible, elaborate designs you’ve ever seen.

  There was one time that my dad did a really traditional, fatherly thing. He took my best friend, Tori, and me to Disney World in Orlando, Florida. Somehow he’d gotten us full run of the park. He even found out that Jesse Jackson was there with his family, too, and we had an amazing, inspiring meal with them. Years later, I still have strong, fond memories of that idyllic trip.

  Here I am with my dad and his amazing pumpkin masterpieces

  My girls love Disneyland, and when I was there with them on a beautiful day a few years ago, I was just flooded with warm nostalgia for that time with my dad. And then I remembered something. I had a powerful flashback to that trip to Disney World, and to Tori and me pushing each other in a wheelchair. Wheelchair? I thought. Then I realized that when we got to the park all those years ago, my dad had taken one look at the crazy-long lines and then realized that people in wheelchairs got front-of-the-line access. That’s when it hit me: Oh my God—my dad had gotten us a wheelchair so that we could cut the lines! It was so terrible that he did that . . . so totally wrong in every way. But twenty-some years later I still had to laugh at his wackiness.

  I’m lucky that my mom was such a stable and reliable influence in my life—she balanced out all of my dad’s unpredictability. They were together for only a few years after I was born, but they stayed friends and she always encouraged our relationship. And as a kid I truly loved his risk taking. Was my dad perfect? Not by a long shot. But somehow the combination of my more stable mom and totally unpredictable dad was just perfect for me. I remind myself of this when I’m feeling deeply imperfect as a parent. Thankfully, I’m not the only adult in my girls’ lives—and Jason isn’t, either. We’ve surrounded them with all kinds of people who love them in their own beautiful, quirky ways. Am I as adventurous as my brother Meeno? Nope. But I’m thrilled that my girls have an uncle like him. Am I as flexible and laid-back as my mom? Well, I aspire to be, but I don’t always manage it. All of us together are my girls’ family, so every day they get a wonderful stew of consistency and rules mixed with art, music, unpredictability, and lots of love. And that’s what family is all about.

  S.P.S.

  Make your own adventure . . .

  I think it’s great to make day-to-day activities fun. Jason and Jagger absolutely love to do the food shopping together—it’s become their weekly outing, and they both really enjoy that special time together. Sometimes when we go to the playground, we bring along a picnic, complete with blanket and basket to make it special. The little things can go a long way.

  Exploring with our little ones . . .

  We really like to take the girls out to explore. Maybe we’ll go to a museum together, or take a bike ride at sunset, or roller-skate on the boardwalk. Something we want to do more of is setting up a tent in the backyard and camping. Of course we can do that in LA, where it’s seventy degrees in the winter, but if you live in a colder climate, maybe your adventure is setting up a tent indoors or ice-skating. One of our favorite things to do is sledding—we love to get away to the mountains. Don’t be surprised if years from now those out-of-the-ordinary moments become some of your kids’ favorite memories.

  7

  You Marry One, You Marry the Tribe

  Question of the day: What has been your most awkward in-law moment?

  “My in-laws are very cool, laid back, easy-going people. I am happy to report that there is not a single ‘awkward moment’ on record between us . . . thus far.”

  —Amanda

  “My father-in-law’s birthday dinner at Olive Garden. We weren’t married yet, and had just found out we were pregnant. My mother-in-law knew right away just by looking at the way I was ‘protecting my stomach.’ ”

  —AnaLiesa

  “When I thought my father-in-law was joking when he said he was Mormon, so I made a joke about it.”

  —Dana

  “The first time I met my mom-n-law. My bro-n-law tossed a ball @ me & I almost dropped it & said ‘oh sh*t Timmy.’ She later said she liked it cuz she knew I wasn’t fake lol.”

  —Tracey

  Here are Jason and me in the beautiful, tropical waters in Parrot Cay

  It’s all fun and games to talk about how nuts my family can be, but my husband actually has to live with these people, and it isn’t always easy. Jason loves my family, but it wasn’t until we had kids that it really hit him: My family was his family, too. Oh my God.

  Superficially, Jason and I could not be more different. Jason: tall and acerbic. Me: short and sunny. Jason: raised conservative. Me: well, you know. But just as the weird blend of my parents worked out for me, the contradictory chemistry of Jason and me works for our kids.

  Well, that’s easy for me to say. For Jason, it was quite a bizarre and unusual learning curve.

  When Jason and I got together, I was twenty and he was twenty-seven. I was living in a house with my mom and her boyfriend (whom she’s since married). The first night Jason stayed over, I walked him into the backyard, and there was my bed—outside. To me, this was totally ordinary—I loved sleeping outside. Of course Jason was immediately convinced that my family was scamming me out of all my Punky Brewster money, and I wasn’t allowed a bedroom in my own house.

  Eventually Jason suggested we sleep in an actual room. One night, we were in bed, it was two in the morning, and my mother walked right into our bedroom and shook me awake. “Honey, turn on the TV!” Then she started flipping channels until she found a show featuring a televangelist named Benny Hinn. She was beyond excited, because she had submitted a prayer for me, and Benny Hinn had just recited it on TV. Then my mom put her hands on the TV, and she sighed with happiness. It was right about this time that Jason decided we should get our own place.

  And so we moved into an adorable little Spanish-style one-bedroom apartment, and eight months later, we were engaged. One afternoon, about two months from our wedding day, we had just gotten back from a meeting with the rabbi at Jason’s synagogue when my mother called. “Jason,” she said. “You’re never going to believe who’s in town—Benny Hinn!” Then she begged Jason to get us tickets to the show. He couldn’t bear to disappoint her, so he called the number my mom gave him and was relieved to get the voice mail. He left a message, assuming we’d never hear back.

  Within minutes, of course, they called—Benny Hinn would love to have Soleil Moon Frye come to his show! And that’s how, just hours after meeting with the rabbi who was going to perform our wedding, my mother, my Jewish fiancé, and I went to a Christian revival meeting along with 55,000 other people. The arena was vibrating with energy, and we were seated right in front. My mom was chatting away with everyone in our row, and I was having the time of my life—I loved all the good vibes! It was awesome. Jason was looking at his watch and praying that no one would ever find out about this.

  Then Benny Hinn came onstage, resplendent in his white suit, and the show started—and lasted for four hours. Toward the end of the show, spotlights started circling the audience, and Benny Hinn said, “We have a special guest here tonight—I’d like to welcome Soleil Moon Frye! Soleil, why don’t you come on up here!”

  While Jason was thinking, No, no, no, no, no, my mother was saying, �
��Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” and pushed me out of my seat. “This is a blessing,” she said. “You’ll be able to touch him!” So I went up onstage, and I don’t know what came over me, but when Benny Hinn asked me what brought me there that night, I grabbed the microphone and yelled into it, “HALLELUJAH!” And then 55,000 people yelled, “HALLELUJAH” right back at me. So I grabbed the mike and said it again. And happy hordes yelled it back again. By this time the house was coming down with excitement, Jason was terrified that somehow his rabbi would find out about this, and my mother was beaming with joy. I was riding on a high of happy energy, so I grabbed the mike again and I yelled, “PRAISE THE LORD!” I was just in the moment, going with the flow, and the energy of those 55,000 people was awesome. Then Benny Hinn said to me, “I’m going to heal you,” and I said back, “HEAL ME!” So he touched me on my forehead, and next thing I knew, I was flat on the floor.