Happy Chaos

by Soleil Moon Frye

  By eight and a half there was R. J. Williams, who was the bad boy on Punky, and he stole my heart early on. We would kiss on-set and we didn’t care who saw us. People thought it was cute. I guess you could say we taught each other how to French-kiss, although we didn’t know what it meant and I certainly didn’t understand what was French about it. By age nine, I had moved on to Chad Allen, who was on Punky with me for a few episodes. We would spend weekends at each other’s houses, and Tori would count how many minutes we would cuddle for. Chad was great—we went on years later to play brother and sister together in a movie in Thailand with Pat Morita and became great friends. We would listen to Depeche Mode and the Cure, but the spark was no longer there. Chad went on to like boys as well, but he was a gentle and great early boyfriend.

  The gorgeous and lovable Andy Gibb and me on the set of Punky. I get flustered just looking at this picture. That was the black sequined jacket he gave me, and I still adore it.

  Here I am with Charlie on Henry’s couch. My cheeks were burning red and I was having a full-blown crush attack.

  At about ten years old, I was sent home one day from the set because of how boy-crazy I was. Charlie Sheen and I had the same publicist, and this was around the time Wall Street had come out. I was looking particularly messy that day, disheveled from playing rough on-set. I was rehearsing a scene with Cherie as she whispered, “Is that Charlie Sheen in the bleachers?” I looked up and there he was, sitting in the empty audience seats, in a black suit jacket, white T-shirt, and sunglasses. I was in total awe. After the scene was over, we met. I was so flustered that I turned bright red. He sat next to me on the big seventies couch in Henry’s living room and put his arm around me for some pictures. I could barely contain myself. I could feel my cheeks burning, and my chest about to explode. He was very sweet, and as we spoke, random people began coming up to me to check my temperature, putting their hands on my forehead, thinking I was sick. No, I’m not sick; I’m having a full-blown internal crush freak-out, I thought to myself. The studio nurse came down and determined that I had far too high a fever to continue working. It was the first and only time I was sent home from set—all because of a crush temperature. Awesome. If I was going to keep having surprise visitors, I would need to work on hiding my crush fevers. That one lasted for a few weeks, at least until Johnny Depp showed up for a visit.

  At eleven, I worked with Mark-Paul Gosselaar for the first time, and we hit it off beautifully. He had dirty-blond hair and green eyes. He was a sweetheart. I put his head shot up in my room, and I guess you could say he was my boyfriend from that very moment—although the term was used loosely, as we had only hugged at that point. There was a place in Hollywood called Alfie’s Soda Pop Club where kids would hang out, dance, and drink soda. It was awesome, like a party every weekend. It was at one of these parties, while the DJ was playing LL Cool J’s “I Need Love,” that I remember kissing Mark-Paul for the first time. He was chewing a green minty gum and it was very sweet and romantic. He lived in Valencia and I lived in Burbank, thirty miles apart, and a long-distance relationship was not in the cards, but on a few occasions over the years, I remember us hanging out while my mom drove us around looking outside at the moonlight. He was kind and loving. But by the time I did Saved by the Bell, he was off with some beautiful girl and I was kind of interested in Mario Lopez. Mario was super sexy and had the biggest biceps you have ever seen. Years later, Mark Paul and I did a movie together and laughed for days about our history and how far we had come.

  By the time I turned thirteen, I had my first real taste of a bad boy. His name was Balthazar Getty, and he quickly became one of my closest friends. We would stay up late talking on the phone, and he introduced me to all of the best music. He exuded cool and was just tough enough to make your heart race. One night he told me that he was going to come to visit me. He was over the hill in Hollywood and I was deep in the Valley. He said not to worry, that he would get there. The next thing I knew, he and his friend were pulling up to my house on his friend’s brother’s dirt bike they had stolen. Aw, the lengths we will go to at that age. After hours of hanging out, they headed back and got pulled over by the police. Thirteen and fearless. I loved that about Balt.

  When it came time for my junior prom, I had only one person I wanted as my date, and it was Balthazar. He showed up to my house with a gray suit and a cool tie. It was a hot getup, very mature for his fourteen years of age. He proceeded to get me into all kinds of fun trouble at the prom, and then we headed to Malibu, where we ate chocolate cake at Gladstones. Before we got to our friend’s car, he said, “Hey, let’s take a walk down to the beach.” We all headed down to the water, and, in true bad-boy fashion, he picked me up and carried me into the ocean with him. There we were, decked out in all of our prom clothes, swimming in the Pacific Ocean, and it was awesome. All these years later I am still friends with Balthazar and his wife, Rosetta. As I stood at his daughter’s birthday party a few months ago and saw him give his daughter her present, I couldn’t help but smile and laugh to myself. It was a dirt bike.

  Me and Balthazar getting ready to leave for junior prom. He looks super cool, and me? Let’s just say I would like to go back in time and fix my hair.

  There is one boy who my youth would not have been complete without. His name was Brian Green. We went through every stage together, and he was always there for me. Looking back, if I had to choose who always had my back when I was a teenager—a person I could depend on if I ever felt like I was falling down—it was Brian. He came from a great family, and I knew him from the time he was awkward through his transformation into a total heartthrob. He was the first boy I knew who got his own place and bought super-cool cars.

  I could literally gush about Brian and all of our moments for a whole chapter, but instead I will keep it short and sweet. Our lives were filled with funny and playful moments, like the time he picked me up and my brother tried to scare him off while wearing red long johns, or cruising around in his gorgeous old convertible sports car. Playing pool at all hours. But one memory stands out to me more than all the others with Brian. One night, we were sitting talking, and in our conversation I said, “Hey, why don’t you pick me up from school one day?” He said, “Sure.” We went back and forth and I told him he would flake and he said he wouldn’t—you know the way you flirt as a kid. The next day, as I got out from my Catholic school (I’m not Catholic but I loved the uniforms), I walked out to see Brian sitting in his car with music pumping. This was at the height of 90210 and all of the cheerleaders with their pom-poms and pleated skirts stared in shock and awe as I jumped into the passenger seat and we cruised off. If I had to choose one of many moments when I felt most popular and on top of the world as a teenager, I would have to say that this was definitely one of mine.

  No words . . . I mean, really? I think our expression says it all.

  At about fourteen years old, I had the biggest crush of my entire life. I was in New York doing a funny talk show called Girl Talk with Sarah Michelle Gellar when I went to interview New Kids on the Block. They were at the height of their fame at the time, and every girl in the world was in love with them. It was on the stage that I saw the most handsome boy I had ever laid eyes on. His name was Mark Wahlberg. As my luck would have it, our paths would cross again back in LA at Universal Studios a few months later. We were backstage when Mark’s brother Donnie introduced us. My heart immediately burst out of my chest. It was at this moment that I felt butterflies and flushed beyond words. I mentioned that I needed a date for an Emmy party the next night. Donnie immediately offered Mark, who smiled and said that he would love to be my date. The next night we met on Sunset Boulevard at a hotel where the party was taking place. I met him at the front of the hotel, decked out in my nineties best: black catsuit dress with a skirt and even shorts (yes, I said shorts) along with knee-high socks and platform shoes. He had on a blue floral shirt with jeans. As we walked in, photographers took photos and we puckered up. My heart was racing.
We sat in a corner and talked all night. The next day he and his friend came to our house in Burbank. We played pool and laughed, and I was giddy with excitement. My stepdad let us take his gold Honda motorcycle for a drive up the street. I remember Prince playing through my head as we stopped to look at the lights in the valley.

  My crazy crush on Mark lasted for a long time. One of my favorite memories was going to Boston with one of my best friends, Maggie, and climbing into Mark’s big car with pumping speakers and listening to his Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch demo on the car stereo. This was pre–Calvin Klein, pre-fame, and I was crazy about him. His smile was enough to make any girl fall head over heels. He had all of the talent inside, and he was destined to turn it into something amazing.

  Mark Wahlberg and me on my stepdad’s motorcycle. I was so crazy about that Boston boy.

  There were the best friends who turned into crushes and then turned back into friends. There were the crushes whose lives ended too early, and those that lasted for years. Who would have ever thought a boy-crazy girl like me, who seemed to fall in love with a new guy every week, would settle down with the love of her life at such a young age? All of the practice over those years must have really helped me to open my heart when the time was right. By the time I turned twenty, I had fallen in love with my biggest crush of all, and now here we are, over fourteen years later. Who says that crushes can’t turn into true love?

  S.P.S.

  Crushes . . .

  Take a moment for yourself to reflect on your childhood crushes, close your eyes, and savor the nostalgia of it all. How did that person or people inspire who you are today? Now get prepared to support your little ones when that day comes, because we all know that no matter how much we try to slow down time, it will happen, and, boy, when it does, watch out!

  33

  Wild Child

  Question of the day: What is the most rebellious thing you did as a teenager?

  “My dad told me to drop college, get a job he liked and cut my hair, or he’d throw me out. My wife told me to just stay out all night and then come back the next evening. It worked. That was really it.”

  —Allen

  “I went on a week long road trip with friends instead of going to school.”

  —Amelia

  “I ran away from home once . . . Well kind of. I ran to my favorite spot, which was 20 feet from the back door. Everyone kept calling out my name but I was upset and needed to cool off. When I came back, I got grounded for three weeks.”

  —AnaLiesa

  “I dyed my hair blue.”

  —Katie

  Poet might be only five, but sometimes she acts like a teenager. Every once in a while I hear a little tone in her voice. She’ll say, “Mo-om,” while rolling her eyes when I’ve said something embarrassing to her. The first time your kids roll their eyes at you, you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. When I remember the stuff I did as a teenager, first I think, My poor mother, and then I think, Oh my God, we are so in for it.

  As I’ve mentioned, my mom always had an incredibly liberal attitude with her children. She basically said, “If you’re going to experiment, do it at home.” And it’s funny, because I think that is one of the reasons my brother and I turned out so well—because our mom was so open. It just never seemed like much of a forbidden thrill. Sure, I had my wild-child moments, but I got them out of my system pretty early.

  Once my mom and I went to New York for a big event. I was probably sixteen at the time, and I left my dress at the airport—and I didn’t notice until we’d gotten all the way to the hotel. Mom was annoyed with me, and since it was already late, she told me to go to bed. She got back in a taxi and went to the airport to get my dress.

  Meanwhile, a young actor friend of mine was in New York. He sneaked me out of the hotel room and I got totally stoned with him for the first time. I remember that in this dazed and confused state we thought it would be super fun to go running up and down escalators all over Manhattan.

  Of course, all the while this was happening, my mom thought I was fast asleep at the hotel. Finally I raced back to the room, reeking of pot smoke, and knowing my mom was going to be back any second to check on me. So I jumped in the shower and washed my mouth out. When I caught my reflection in the mirror, I was really flushed. I was just lucky the room was dark when my mom came in and I was deep under the covers, pretending to be asleep.

  When I was seventeen, my mom didn’t even blink when I told her that I wanted to go on tour with my friend Danny O’Connor, who was in House of Pain. I used to carry a little video camera with me wherever I went, filming everything, almost like a video journal. My mom totally encouraged me to chase my inspiration, so when I decided I wanted to do a documentary on House of Pain, Mom agreed and Meeno came along with me. It was a blast, and I became good friends with the whole group and everyone on the road in the process.

  Danny O’Connor and me playing around for the camera

  One night we were out shooting really late and I stayed over at my friend Danny’s house. The next morning, I left to go back home in my little black Jetta and accidentally went full speed into reverse, slamming into the back of Danny’s old hatchback. His car was fine; mine was totally trashed. So I ran inside and yelled, “I need stickers!” Then I plastered the back of my car with House of Pain stickers everywhere—like that was going to hide the damage from my mother. One look at my patch job, and even I knew that there was no way my mom wasn’t going to see that huge dent. She was easygoing, but she wasn’t that easygoing.

  I was also very good friends with Cathy Moriarty during this time, who owned Mulberry Street Pizzeria, and I used to hang out there all the time. So instead of going home to face my mother with my wrecked Jetta, I went over to show Cathy the damage. Joey, another one of my friends who worked there, knew a place where we could get my car fixed—for seven hundred dollars. Oh my God, there was no way I could go to my mother for seven hundred dollars to fix the car. Then I’d have to tell her how I crashed it in the first place. So Joey fronted me the money, the body shop fixed my car, and I worked with my friends at Mulberry Street Pizzeria to pay off my debt. I don’t know if my mother ever knew the real reason why I was flipping pizzas for a few months after that.

  There were so many crazy things that I did with my friends back then, because let’s face it—teenagers are teenagers. But even when I was at my wackiest, I always came home. And I always knew that there really wasn’t anything I couldn’t tell my mom. Maybe I didn’t tell her about the car . . . or that night I ran through Manhattan with the munchies . . . but I told her the really important stuff, always. And I want my girls to do the same thing. Of course, we’ll give them all the really important parental advice when the time comes—never drive drunk, always call home if they need a ride, how to be safe and take care of themselves.

  The girls might roll their eyes at us when we tell them these things, but I know that they’ll get the message. We’ll leave our lessons for them like a trail of bread crumbs in the forest. And then when they have their wild-child moments, they’ll always be able to find their way home again.

  S.P.S.

  Parent, friend, or both . . .

  I really feel like my mother was always my mom first. I knew a lot of kids growing up whose mothers wanted to be their best friends, but who were not really there for them as a parent. It was important for my mom to feel like her role as my mother was clear while still maintaining an openness and trust between us that made me feel like she was a friend I could turn to.

  I think it is important to be a parent and for our kids to have an understanding of who we are and what the role of parent means in the family dynamic. Our kids feel safe and protected when they know they can depend on the person or people closest in their lives. I also think that the open line of communication between us and our children will create a friendship and bond with our kids that they will cherish. When they are older, I would love to sit and have coffee with my girls while reading o
ur favorite books, but more importantly I want them to know that they can always come to me and that I am going to look out for them as their parent and that there are boundaries that we each must respect.

  We each have a wild child inside of us . . .

  If you’re a new parent, it may feel really early to be thinking about these things, but it’s never too early to figure out what kind of parent you want to be when those moments come—and we all know they will—when your kid is being a wild child. Reflect back to when you were young. What were the best lessons you ever learned and who taught them to you? Write down the things that most helped you and the areas where you wish that you could have had more support. I think some of the best lessons can come out of our own experiences. Also ask yourself, how did your parents handle certain situations ? Would you have handled them differently?