Being Kendra: Cribs, Cocktails, & Getting My Sexy Back

By Kendra Wilkinson

The reality star talks about managing marriage, motherhood and her celebrity career in this sequel to her bestselling memoir.

In the intimate follow up to her New York Times–bestselling memoir Sliding Into Home, Kendra Wilkinson reveals the naked truth about her life after Playboy—the secrets behind regaining her trademark sexy body, the trials of her life as a new mother, the tricks of sustaining her long-distance romance with Hank, and her busy adventures juggling the needs of her husband and baby with the demands of her hit TV career. As fans of Dancing with the Stars and Girls Next Door know, Kendra is able to tell it like it is, baring everything she’s learned about love, hardship, body image, and perseverance, all with the infectious optimism that the world loves her for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Sep 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9780062091208

Kendra Wilkinson

Kendra Wilkinson is the star of the hit reality television show Kendra on E! She rose to fame in five seasons on The Girls Next Door, living in the Playboy Mansion as one of magazine mogul Hugh Hefner's girlfriends. Originally from San Diego, she lives in Los Angeles.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Motherhood 2.0:

The Plight of the Modern-Day Mom

I s this yours or the baby’s?"

My husband, Hank, held up a tiny jersey for me to look at. He hunched over open boxes in our bedroom and, of course, a big pile of my clothes mixed in with some of the baby’s things. When I replied that it was mine, he winked and put it in a box labeled

KENDRA’S

CLOTHES

. We were finishing up a grueling few days of packing our Studio City apartment—the most recent in a long string of apartments and houses in the last two years. But this move was the most exciting, and hopefully the last. We were moving into our first family house—our forever home—in Calabasas, California.

They say home is where the heart is. Well, my heart is with my family, but I still wanted that permanent safe haven for my one-and-a-half-year-old son, Hank Jr. And for myself.

Moving in was a monumental occasion because other than my marriage and my family I had very little else to call my own. I needed somewhere to put down roots. It took us a while to find the perfect house—someplace where paparazzi can’t get into the gates, stalkers can’t camp out, and random people can’t drive by to look and say, Hey! It’s Kendra’s house! I finally felt like the house had everything we were looking for, but for me the biggest selling point was when I walked into the community and heard the sound of children playing outside and splashing around in the pool next door. It was music to my ears. And it really was the main reason why I bought my house. We looked in a million different communities around Los Angeles, some of them high-end with lots of celebrity residents, but one thing was missing: kids. And that’s not right for my family. I wanted to give Hank Jr. a neighborhood full of kids his age and a family-oriented safe place for him to grow up, not to mention fulfilling my own needs of a five-bedroom house with a pool. It’s big by normal standards, but it’s well proportioned. Nothing about it is over-the-top or extravagant—it’s a home not a mansion.

Hank spent a lot of time at the house getting everything ready for us to move in—painting every room and dealing with a couple small fixes here and there. I was rehearsing and filming for Dancing with the Stars, so he worked his ass off trying to get everything in place, including baby-proofing. We had to make sure nothing about our new home would be a danger to baby Hank. The pool is fenced all the way around with metal bars. We like to barbecue a lot, so we have caps on the on/off switch for the grills since Hank Jr. loves to press buttons. We put covers over anything that gets hot, we installed door handle locks on all the doors to make sure Hank Jr. can’t get out, and we put in a metal gate at the top and bottom of our stairway. And, of course, socket covers all over the house.

One of the last times Hank went to our dream house before we officially moved in, he took baby Hank with him and the next-door neighbors invited Hank Jr. over to play with their kids! That made me so happy, I just started to cry. Someone could offer me a million dollars to take a different house and I wouldn’t care. Money is just money, but when I heard that there were kids baby Hank’s age right next door, I was thrilled. He’ll probably grow up with them and go to school with them. This is where lifelong bonding begins. I imagined his wonderful childhood unfolding in that neighborhood. It’s the best thing I could have heard.

And since we moved in, I’ve met all of the neighbors and they are awesome. I know I made the right choice. Hank was over there a lot more than me because I was on DWTS, so he got a head start on meeting everyone. But after DWTS, I finally got to know them all. We’d run into each other on the street, we’d see each other in our yards, and we’d just start talking about the neighborhood—it’s something we all had in common! It was all just so easy. We felt like we’d been living there for twenty years.

This was so important to me because for so long we had been moving baby Hank around to a million cities, in a million homes, and never letting him get to adjust. We were in cities we didn’t know and without friends or family for support. I tried to keep him indoors and away from the elements, whether that was freezing temperatures, city life, or just anything we couldn’t control. But I don’t want to hide little Hank from life anymore. I may be scared of all the dangers out there, but I’m not going to keep my son safely indoors and shrouded in bubble wrap. I’ll book him playdates or take him to the park, and whether the parents know I’m a celebrity or not doesn’t matter. Raising kids in Hollywood doesn’t mean your kid has to only grow up with famous friends. While I will always be paying close attention to anyone who is approaching my child, what’s most important is getting baby Hank out there with other babies and letting him develop the social skills he needs.

I take baby Hank to a baby class every Thursday for a twelve-to-twenty-month class where he can socialize. I’ve noticed that I’m one of the only parents who allow their child to go off on his own and explore. Every other parent is attached to his or her kid like glue. When their child wants to interact with Hank Jr., their parents just grab them and say, No, no, no. Be nice. And all I can think to myself is, What do you mean ‘be nice’? The baby didn’t do anything! Are you serious? If the kids tap one another to talk, let them tap each other. That’s not hitting. I know when baby Hank is trying to hit someone and when he’s just exploring or trying to make friends. I think parents meddle in their kids’ business way too much.

I have been noticing that kids are a lot more sheltered than they used to be. I don’t know if it’s me or society, but it seems like parents are more protective of their kids than ever. Not me; I’m all about little Hank Jr. falling down and knowing what it is to hurt. I want him to be tough. I am raising a kid, not a porcelain egg. He deserves to learn for himself what it’s like to fall or get a scratch.

Recently in our old neighborhood I took baby Hank to the park on a Sunday and there were only five kids there on a sunny day in L.A. Where is everyone? Now, I don’t expect Shiloh Jolie-Pitt to be there, but surely more than five kids would want to play outside.

Luckily two kids there were his age, so I encouraged him to invite one of the other boys over to play with him. He was so excited to hang out with a boy his age, but before they even got settled, the dad came over and steered his son away so he wouldn’t bother us. I said it was no problem—we were just sitting in the grass blowing bubbles, not much to interrupt—but they left. Socializing is good for kids, so I want Hank to ask to play with other kids in the park. Am I the only one letting my child explore? If so, am I raising him the wrong way?

That’s just how I was raised. I loved building forts, and I fell from trees and scraped my knees. Now I look back and I thank God for my childhood. I remember a couple times where I got hurt pretty bad and I was bleeding, but I was fine and it made for the best stories. My mom used to kick me and my brother outside to go have fun and explore. I actually stole my grandpa’s wood out of the garage and would take a hammer and nails and put it together. Most kids can’t do that kind of stuff anymore, but I wonder with kids so protected and isolated what they will grow up to be.

I’m constantly trying to guide Hank Jr. down the proper path, to keep him away from the bad temptations I faced and move him toward the good experiences I did have. I laugh about it because the only way I can explain it is to say, I don’t want to shelter him, but I do want to shelter him. I’ve seen so much craziness throughout my life, so much dirtiness, and I lived through it. Now I feel like it’s my job as a mom to protect him and prevent him from experiencing any of that. I know a kid is going to be a kid. Scrapes are fine; he will fall. But I want to do whatever I can to raise him right. It’s my job to guide him into good habits, not bad habits.

I don’t want him to be aware of how crazy adults can be . . . yet. So I shield him from it. If Hank and I are getting heated, we make sure to spell things out or give each other looks that say, Let’s wait to finish this conversation until we aren’t around the baby. It’s like pressing pause on whatever situation we are in. It’s harder for Hank to wait three hours to finish our argument—he usually gets a little more heated during our spats—while my natural instinct is to delay the argument and protect the baby. I don’t want baby Hank to have bad memories of his parents fighting; I don’t think there’s any way to erase that. I will always remember my father’s rage when my parents fought or the time he punched a hole through the wall. I will never get that out of my head. I don’t want that for baby Hank. I always want to make sure he has nothing but happy memories. Life isn’t perfect. I know there will be times where Hank sees us fighting, but I want to do my best to limit it. I am always aware. As much as I might want to fight in that moment, it’s not worth it for baby Hank’s sake.

Hank Jr. deserves the best chance possible. He’s got more of an advantage than Hank and I had combined. My teachers sucked, my friends were as bad as me, and my mom was working all the time. So I’m not letting that happen to baby Hank; I’m guiding him through his childhood. I’m his guardian angel. But I also know that makes me a bit of a control freak.

People are afraid of everything. The reality is there probably isn’t so much to worry about. We remember all of the bad things happening in the news and on TV, and we’re scared. It’s a natural reaction, but it affects our everyday life and how our kids perceive the world. It’s either a wonderful place full of opportunity or a scary place. I say, turn off the damn TV, get off the Internet, and just let your kids be kids.

I remember when I was a kid and I had only twenty-one channels on my TV, and that was more than enough. We had lots of news, Nickelodeon, and MTV (which I was banned from watching until junior high), and then we had VH1 and E! and HBO. Having only those channels made me appreciate it more when a movie came on every Saturday night on HBO. With so few options, I was bored just staying inside. It made me go outside and enjoy life. Now we have thousands of channels and too many options!

Hank and I had very similar childhoods and we talk about it all the time. We liked the same sports, watched the same shows, and shared a love for Pogs. Now that I know that Hank collected them too, I’m sure on the same day at the same time we were both playing Pogs. And we both had so much fun playing outside. That’s what we want for little Hank. Even though my teenage years sucked and Hank went through hard times too, we are so thankful for our childhoods. We both just loved running around playing tag, playing softball, building forts—that was a real childhood. It’s because of those experiences that we are so passionate about giving Hank Jr. the best childhood he can have. Which to us means freedom and exploring. Of course, we are teaching him his left and right and things like don’t cross the street before looking both ways—the commonsense stuff. But everything else we just want him to explore on his own. If he falls, he falls. We are going to let him figure it out for himself.

When Hank Jr. cries we don’t always run to him if it’s not serious. We want him to gain a sense of independence and not always look to us for help. I don’t want him to think that we are always looking over his shoulder spying on him or that we’ll always be there when he falls. Hopefully we will, but it’s not a guarantee.

We’re still adjusting to life in the suburbs, and we are desperate to find him a playdate. Of course, Kourtney Kardashian and I have talked about playdates. But in the year and a half since our kids have been born it’s still yet to happen. We both have busy work schedules and travel back and forth between New York and L.A. Now that we’re both living in Calabasas we will hopefully end up doing it soon.

As a parent—wait, who am I kidding? In life!—I rarely do anything by the book, but I try to follow my natural instincts as a mother and do what I think is best for baby Hank. There are so many differing philosophies out there on parenting, nutrition, bedtimes, you name it. It’s hard to know what to do and which is best for my son. So I try to stay true to my instincts and consider everything in moderation. I try to keep him healthy and use natural products, but when it comes to medicine, I use it as needed and directed. I’m not going to go all-natural with that. If he is sick I’m going to give him medicine to take away his pain. Any time I give him a shot I get so scared because of all of the horror stories out there that it causes autism. I did my research though and I think that all of the people out there saying don’t do it are actually doing more harm than good.

Jenny McCarthy is one of the foremost activists when it comes to fighting the practice of immunizations. I like Jenny a lot and I respect what she stands for. But my belief in her cause changed drastically after I had a child of my own.

I first met Jenny long before ever getting pregnant. I was living at the mansion at the time, and we were invited to one of her events (well, Hef was). It was a benefit for autism being held at Jim Carrey’s house. She showed us all the information she had and talked about autism and some of the causes of it. That night I realized how serious the issue was and I learned a lot about Jenny’s beliefs about the causes and the importance of awareness.

A little while later I got pregnant and the H1N1 virus was going around like wildfire. It was all over the news that pregnant women were at risk, so I went right out to get a regular flu shot. Unfortunately, I got really sick. I was sweating, had a high fever, and ultimately had to go to the hospital. It was obvious to me that this was a direct result of getting the flu shot, because it happened within hours of my vaccination. I was so scared I was going to lose the baby. I was shaking and having mini seizures. Then guilt set in. I thought back to that night at the autism benefit and remembered what Jenny McCarthy had warned us about vaccinations. I had filled my body with foreign substances, which my body was trying to reject, so I got angry at myself. I just kept asking myself, What did I do? I was petrified that I had put the baby at risk. I spent the rest of my pregnancy, four long months, with this worry in the back of my head.

A few months later in Indianapolis, when Hank Jr. was born, the doctors asked me if I wanted my child to be part of a vaccination program. I wasn’t prepared for the question and struggled to weigh the pros and cons to find an answer. Sometimes with stuff like that I wish they’d just go ahead and do it. I’m not really qualified to make those kinds of decisions; my only education on the subject of vaccinations is what I remember from looking it up on Google while I was pregnant. I thought back to Jenny McCarthy again, and after my flu shot experience, I was really on her team. I needed to know more to make this decision, which seemed more important than ever, so I asked the doctors at the hospital about the benefits and risks of getting vaccinated and not getting vaccinated. What are you giving to him? How much? What percentage of people do it vs. not? They explained to me that if my baby got one of these viruses or infections, it’s a much worse outcome than if he were to get autism. I know that’s a horrible thing to say, but the chances of something bad happening are far more likely and deadly if he doesn’t get vaccinated. With this new information in hand, my views changed. This was about what’s best for my son. And now that he was a living, breathing human, I wanted to protect him even more. So I gave him the shots.

I gave Hank Jr. the shots my way though. I spread them out instead of flooding him all at once. I said, You can give two shots now and spread out the rest. We’ll come back as often as needed to get it done. Just don’t do it all in one day. That was my way of trying to protect my baby. That’s what made the most sense to me and felt right instinctually for my family. We all need an advocate in this world, and I definitely think Jenny McCarthy is doing a great job being an advocate. If God forbid anything were to happen to my son, I’d be an advocate too. Jenny speaks with her actions, and they show how much she loves her son. She doesn’t preach but educates and shares her powerful experiences. I don’t believe in telling people what to do. You have a choice, you either listen or you don’t. She’s had to suffer and she’s dealing with it. I listened to her and learned from her experiences, then I made my choice.

Kids living in poverty who don’t have immunizations and health care are more at risk of getting infections that turn into other problems. We are fortunate, so we should use the resources we have.

I talk about this stuff all the time with my friends who are also moms. When one of my best friends, Mykelle, was pregnant, I sent her an e-mail full of advice, the facts of motherhood. I wanted to write her woman to woman, mom to mom, and tell her how I survived the first couple months. I didn’t go off any books; I went off my own experience, intuition, and instincts. I covered everything, down to stealing everything at the hospital, anything they have laying around.

Here’s exactly what I wrote her:

Dear Mykelle,

In the 1st year of being a new mother I’ve learned so much, but not by the book and I want to share some of those lil tricks, shortcuts, ideas, and ways that made mine and Hanks and baby Hank’s lives easier. I suck at typing but here I go lolol. Starting all the way from hospital . . .

1. Once I had the baby the docs were very forceful with breastfeeding it made me stressed out . . . my milk didn’t come in until day 3. I would cry because I thought something was wrong with me but everyone’s milk comes in at different times. Anddddd DO NOT stress if he doesn’t latch on immediately . . . keep trying . . . don’t give up even though you will want to. Don’t feel guilty if you want to take those days at the hospital and rest as much as you can because your body just went through war!!!

2. Steal the stuff around that they provide at the hospital for extra stuff. They don’t care. Its diapers and wipes and formula.

3. Pack yours and Bob’s favorite card game, movie, music, and thick ass pads for you bleeding vagina. Seriously bring a million of them, it’s like a bloody Niagara Falls.

4. After the epidural and medication I was soooooooooo itchy . . . anti itch cream or lotion will help. Bring that too.

5. Feed the baby as much milk/formula as the baby will eat . . . I made the mistake of always giving him only a certain amount and he’d wake up starving . . . I wish I knew that simple thing. Keep going until he stops.

6. Wake up when the baby wakes you up . . . Don’t wake him up