Hurray for Hollywood

This is my newest Mother Load column about my daughter Chloe's obsession with fame.

Good golly, Hollywood: the Mother Load

Deep in thought, looking for stars on a tour

 

By ARRISSIA OWEN TURNER

Reporter

Published: Wednesday, October 13, 2010 7:13 AM PDT

Chloe has gone Hollywood. For some reason, my 7-year-old daughter has become inexplicably obsessed with L.A.

I have no idea where this is coming from other than that the Jonas Brothers’ new season for the Disney TV show “Jonas” now focuses on them moving to L.A. Chloe has been to the City of Angels hundreds of times, but suddenly it’s the big lights in the big city.

So when my cousin Jill’s son decided he wanted us to go to Universal Studios for his birthday, Chloe started asking questions. I explained to her that it’s like Disneyland but you get to see where movies and TV shows are filmed.

As my lips were moving, I could have sworn I actually saw stars form in Chloe’s pupils.  “Hollywood?” she asked while in a self-imposed daze.

As we drove onto the 101 freeway, the Hollywood Freeway Chloe pointed out, she looked out her window, taking in every morsel of the glitz and urban grime.

Chloe is sure she is famous, which is part of the allure. She was once on an episode of Nickelodeon’s “Yo Gabba Gabba,” so every once in a while she asks whether or not she is famous and if I am somehow part of the limelight.

I think Chloe is a little let down when I break the bad news that I am not. “But you talk to famous people,” she points out. True, I say, but fame isn’t contagious like a cold, unless you’re Lauren Conrad from “The Hills” or Kim Kardashian from whatever she is famous for.

There were some signs leading up to this obsession with greatness. When Chloe got the part on “Yo Gabba Gabba,” she immediately begged me for a black, faux fur jacket. Her intentions became very clear when I saw her dressed to impress with her “Hollywood jacket” and sunglasses, striking poses in the back seat of the car like I was her chauffeur.

The funny part about this is that every famous person’s kid I have ever met has been completely unfazed by his or her parent’s reputation. Mark Mothersbaugh, of Devo not Mark Motherspaw of the Big Bear City Community Services District, signed on to be the resident doodler on “Yo Gabba Gabba” because his newly adopted daughters were mesmerized by the show’s host DJ Lance Rock.

They did not know that their father was done being cool, and they didn’t care that he was ever in the art rock group synonymous with the hit “Whip It.” They just wanted to know if he had an in with Muno and Foofa, the show’s colorful characters.

I once had a conversation with Pennywise’s former lead singer Jim Lindberg about being the father of three girls who absolutely did not care that their father was a punk rock icon. Unless he was Christina Aguilera or a star from “That’s so Raven,” his accomplishments were nil.

Driving around in a mini-van with three little girls and Brittney Spears stickers on the windows and not caring one smidge was the most punk rock thing he had ever done, Lindberg said.

Tattoo artist and “L.A. Ink” star Corey Miller’s three children were completely underwhelmed by his success until he scored backstage passes for a Hannah Montana concert—nevermind that he toured with Metallica and has his own Ludwig signature series of drums.

But one of my favorite stories is from my cousin Jenny, whose friend’s kid was in the same class as Mike Ness from Social Distortion’s son. There was a career type thing where kids’ parents came in and told about their occupations.

When it was Ness’ turn to inform the class about being a professional musician, his son practically sank into his seat. He begged him not to bring his instantly recognizable 1972 Les Paul with the Clay Smith Cams Mr. Horsepower logo. And, dear God, please don’t talk about all that rockabilly nonsense.

How embarrassing, indeed. Ness scored points with his sons though once by performing at Tony Hawk’s Boom Boom Huck Jam, where they got to meet their hero, never mind that their father is fricken Mike Ness.

I do not know if I have ever met a kid who is impressed with his or her parents. Malia Ann and Natasha Obama probably think it’s completely normal for dads to become presidents. Chloe thinks it’s normal, as well as excruciatingly embarrassing, that I write a column about being her mom.

So from now on, my answer to Chloe when she asks whether I am famous will be this: It wouldn’t matter if I was.

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