Kiss and Tell (16 page)

A son: a mini-me, a clone. What could be better for an egomaniac? Oh yes, Gene was happy. When he said, “She’s going to have my son,” I would counter, “I’m going to have
my
son.” But it was all good-natured; we were both thrilled. We were on the same page now and started thinking of names. I liked Noah. “Noah is a pretty big name to live up to,” Gene countered. “No,
Simmons
is a big name to live up to;
Noah
would be fine. That’s just a boat and a few animals!”

PREGNANT WITH NICK.

The story broke in the tabloids, and we happily shared the news with our family and friends. There was plenty of other stuff still going on in our lives. At this time Gene and I each had our own stalkers. I had one in Los Angeles who wanted to kill Gene, because he believed the baby was his own, and Gene had a fan in London who had a different reaction. She actually came to the door of our London hotel room. I don’t know how she got past security, but she managed. (Never underestimate a stalker.) I happened to answer the door and when she saw me she actually ran away, but then she returned. I told Gene, “You answer it this time, and tell her to get out of here.”

He went to the door to reason with her, and that’s when she made her offer: “You know, I could kick her in the stomach right now for you.” We had already called security, so they were on the floor by that time and took her away. That was another turning point. He became much more protective, realizing what a valuable and serious thing my pregnancy really was. The remaining months went smoothly, with me trying to reassure him. “What do we do?” “How do you raise a child, feed it, stop his crying?” Gene was full of worries. I told him that I was reading up on it but was sure the answers would come in time.

We settled on the name Nicholas Adam Tweed-Simmons. When I gave birth on January 22, 1989, that was it! He was thrilled, elated— happier than I had ever seen him. “He looked at me!” “He grabbed my finger!” I knew babies don’t really see that well and they’ll grab anything, so I just laughed. Gene was immediately, madly, forever in love with Nicholas, his son, his clone, and his love. His wife? Not to be, though he was moved enough to tell me, “I want to apologize. I didn’t know what I wanted.”

I pointed out, “There are other things you don’t know you want, too! But we won’t go there, because it doesn’t really matter anymore.” Of course he went off and drew up more papers about how Nicholas would get stuff, and I would get stuff, and so on. We had everything but the wedding. Pensions, health plans, houses, but no wedding. “My God, all I have to do is knock you off and we’d be all set. I should get rid of you right now!” I joked.

Having Nicholas barely slowed me down; I continued to work constantly. As a working mother I had to deal with what every working mother does: finding reliable, trustworthy child care. I was torn, because I liked to do everything myself, but I also wanted to go back to work. I was busier than ever. I did have a lot of weight to lose, which wasn’t hard. Exercising and breast-feeding took care of the 85 pounds I had gained during my pregnancy. (How had
that
happened?) It hadn’t hurt the sex life either—the fatter I got during my pregnancy, the more fun Gene had with the junk in the trunk.

NICK AT 9 MONTHS AND OUR FRIEND MONIQUE.

NICK’S FIRST BIRTHDAY. WE OVERDID IT A LITTLE BIT WITH THE PETTING ZOO.

Very soon I was breast-feeding Nick in my trailer on the set of
ist and Ten,
starring O.J. Simpson, for HBO. I took Nick to Vancouver and all the way to Nice, France, for two months when I was shooting the television series
Fly By Night
for CBS. (My costar David James Elliot is now starring in his own show,
JAG,
and happily has children of his own.) I was lucky enough to find Nick’s beautiful nanny Tawny, who came with us to these locations. She was an excellent nanny and a very nice girl, and I certainly give her a lot of credit for influencing Nick’s manners and behavior in a very positive way. I could never thank her enough for doing such a tremendous j ob with Nick while I was working.

When Nicholas was two years old, we got a new live-in British nanny who was very proper and presentable. She was also a thief who stole a ring and a big wad of cash after she figured out how to open a wall safe in my bedroom. (It’s always the smart ones you have to watch out for.)

Nicholas told me one night, “A bad man came and shook a stick at me.” I could not believe my ears; I was freaking out. “What bad man?” I asked him. “Nanny’s friend, the bad man, he came in Mommy’s bedroom,” Nicholas told me. He wasn’t hurt physically, but he reversed his potty training because the whole incident scared him so much. I was furious.

A WARDROBE PHOTO FOR THE HBO SHOW 1ST AND 10 STARRING O. J. SIMPSON.

ON THE SET WITH MICHAEL DES BARRES WHO PLAYED MY HUSBAND ON A SHOW FOR THE WB “MY GUIDE TO BECOMING A ROCK STAR”

The nanny—let’s just call her “Lisa,”—denied it up and down: She didn’t know any guys; she didn’t have a boyfriend; nobody had come in; Nicholas was making all this up. Then it occurred to me that I probably should go take a look in the safe. All the cash, a considerable amount, was gone. When people hear something like this, they say, “Well, just have her arrested.” Believe me, I tried. She didn’t have the money on her. It was long gone.

While I was hauling the stuff out of her room I found a picture of a man. I showed it to Nicholas and he immediately said, “Bad man!” I took it to the police, who told me that they could not do anything based on the testimony of a two-year-old. When Lisa came to work the next day I had arranged for someone to be right there to give her a lie detector test. Afterward, the expert who administered the test told me, “We’re not even sure she is who she claims to be. She cannot answer a single question without lying.” My sister and I threw all of her stuff in the driveway and told her to never come back.

Lisa had terrific references, but they all turned out to be bogus, because the girl who had been my nanny wasn’t Lisa! She was using the name of another girl who had solid references. Boy, was that a new one. Why would anyone ever suspect that someone applying for a job was using someone else’s name? You interview someone, have their references, call to check them, and you hear, “Oh, Lisa was great, dependable, she did a wonderful job.” That’s the usual way it goes. No one ever faxes you a photograph and says, “Tell me if that is Lisa.” Now I do think that way.

BACKSTAGE WITH GENE AND A COVER BAND.

Chapter Eleven

Sophie

T
he second time I got pregnant, three years later, was not nearly as nerve-racking as the first. If I remember correctly, Sophie, another reunion baby, also was conceived on the bathroom floor, this time so Gene and I wouldn’t wake up Nick. Again, I called my sister Tracy first, and we talked about the best approach for telling Gene. In the end I just said, “Guess what, hon—surprise, again!” His response was, “Oh my God. Oh my God.” I added, “Maybe this time we’ll have a little girl!” “Oh my God. Oh my God,” was all he could say to that.

Gene didn’t seem to be any less frightened the second time around. On July 7, 1992, he once again anxiously waited for his child’s birth at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in L.A., holding my hand, cutting the cord and once again shedding tears of joy and pride. He didn’t have to wait long; Sophie arrived much faster than Nick. Could Daddy be happier?! Or more frightened—a girl!

SOPHIE - AGE ONE DAY.

ME AND SOPHIE.

Sophie was a beautiful baby, born with a little birthmark on her cheek. As she grew up we told her that she was kissed by an angel or hit by a falling star. I would kiss the little chocolate mark on her cheek and make a wish. We told her she could have it removed whenever she wanted. She has said she wants to keep it, that it makes her special. (However, as I am writing this, Sophie is a beautiful 13-year-old young lady as who recently asked if it would hurt to have the birthmark removed. We’ll wait for her final decision.)

Of course, that’s not what makes Sophie special to us. Named after Gene’s favorite actress Sophia Loren and my favorite film, “Sophie’s Choice,” she has as pure a heart as you could ever find. Sophie is a nurturing, mother earth-type child who shows great empathy and sympathy for all living things. She enjoys life to the fullest. She loves horses and dogs, laughing, and her girlfriends. She loves doing girlie things with me and adores her daddy—history repeating itself. Whatever she asks for is hers. Luckily, neither child abuses our generosity, because he’s emptying his pockets every time he looks at them.

Gene proved to be a wonderful father to both son and daughter in many ways. After Sophie was born I continued to be very active, appearing in all kinds of films and television shows. (I had another 80 pounds to lose, but Billy Blanks’ Tae Bo took care of that.) Gene made sure that I had lots of help with the children so I could juggle everything. He was a great help, himself. One day I decided the time had come for him to change a diaper. I waited for just the right moment. When Gene took off the diaper, Nicholas peed straight up into Gene’s shirt pocket. I was hovering behind him, cracking up.

Sophie was a dream baby. Happy and independent, sweet and wise. Gene was so worried about how he would talk to a daughter. “I don’t know what to say to a little girl. What if I break her, or drop her or hurt her feelings…?” It went on and on. Needless to say he fell madly in love with his little bundle of energy. He admires her spunk and bravery. Sophie will be the first one with her hand up and the leader of the pack, the first to cliff-dive and the one who loves easily. We fear as much for a broken heart as broken bones.

When the kids were babies Gene would feed them or bring them to me in the wee hours of the morning to be breast-fed. He rarely slept through the night. He would wake up, check on the kids, and run to them when he heard crying or knew they were having bad dreams. Nick and Sophie mean everything to Gene. I remember admiring his protective instincts when the big earthquake hit L.A. Our house was shaking and I had barely opened my eyes from a deep sleep when Gene had already gathered the children and was standing with them in the doorjamb calling my name.

NICK AND SOPHIE.

Gene was doting, loving and reliable, but he was also working and frequently on the road, so we traveled to see him, he traveled to see us, making sure the kids knew him and saw him as much as possible. When we were all together, we had wonderful times. From Chuck E. Cheese to McDonald’s and Disneyland, we did all the things other families with young children did.

As parents, the one area of difficulty we had was discipline. I had been spanked a couple of times in my childhood, and Gene and I struggled over whether or not to physically discipline our children. We agreed that it wasn’t for us or for them: we felt bad, they felt worse, and we just couldn’t do it more than once. That doesn’t mean it didn’t work—it worked like a charm—but we figured there had to be a better way to teach good behavior than to hit a little body. We take a firm stand on rules in our home, and—knock on wood—our kids listen and have never done anything after their first spanking to warrant another. No always means no, never maybe, and Gene and I make it a point to agree on things so the kids can’t pit one parent against the other. They never have to be told to go to bed, get up for school, or do their homework more than once. Gene and I keep a united front. Kids need rules, and they’re happier when they know what’s expected of them and how they’re doing. Praise is good.

MOM, BABY SOPHIE AND NICK.

I hope I can use some of what I’ve learned from my relationships to help my children as they grow up. My daughter will be horrified by some of the admissions in this book, but I want her to learn from my experiences. The things that I did as a teen go on with some of her friends too. I want to help Sophie make healthy choices in her love life. Hopefully she won’t be looking for love in all the wrong places like her mother. I want her to understand that sex is fun when the time is right, but not a bartering tool. I also want her to learn from my mistakes, and more importantly, know that when you make a mistake, and we all do, it’s never too late to change for the better. We are, after all, what we do now and who we are today.

I want to teach Nick about what girls really want, and how to have a healthy attitude about sex while understanding that no means no. Respect has become one of the most important aspects of a relationship to me, and I want both of them to respect the opposite sex and value real love. My kids might think it’s a pain in the ass to have a parent who knows too much, but I find the good and usefulness in it. Gene might be oblivious to certain behaviors of teenagers, but I’m not. I am keenly aware, and plan to stay that way.

Since Nick and Sophie were born Gene and I haven’t discussed marriage (other than a few wisecracks) or any of the other stuff that used to seem a lot more important. After you have kids you get your priorities straight in a hurry. They are what are important to both of us. Children, health, love, work—in that order for me—and even work has a whole new meaning.

QUIET ON THE SET.

SOPHIE TOOK OVER FOR A LITTLE ACTRESS WHO GOT TIRED DURING A MOVIE SHOOT, BUT SHE HASN’T ACTED SINCE. SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO PLAY SAD. THE DAY BEFORE I’D ACTUALLY HAD MY NOSE BROKEN IN A FIGHT SCENE GONE WRONG.