Booze. Parties. Sex.

When you string those powerful words together, it sounds like the dastardly headline of yet another Hollywood tragedy. I’m guessing you wouldn’t conjure up any of those words while thinking of everyday moms and dads who work ceaselessly to be good moms and dads. I know I didn’t used to.

But what if booze, parties, and sex actually help a lot of parents be better parents? Is that possible? I know many parents who would adamantly tell you, YES. It’s not only possible, it’s very much a reality.

But before you string me up by my ankles for defacing the sanctity of parenthood, read the following paragraphs and let’s have an interesting discussion about it.

1) Tanya, a single mother of two, really enjoys any chance she can find for booze, parties, and sex.

And…

2) Tanya, a single mother of two amazing girls, works two jobs to make ends meet. Finding time for herself can be challenging with how much she gives her little ones, and there is no doubt that the stresses of life can often be overwhelming. Her social life is usually the last thing she worries about, and her friends are lucky to break her away for a night of fun. Her boyfriend often feels neglected in their relationship, but is generally understanding that her schedule simply doesn’t allow much time for him. Sometimes, after the kids are in bed, the two of them forget about everything else, finish off a bottle of wine, and savor some much needed intimacy. On other even more rare occasions, she is able to find a babysitter and go out for a night on the town with her girlfriends. They go dancing, karaoking, and usually get drinks together. This, of course, leads to all sorts of silliness and fun. When the night is over (whether it’s with her boyfriend or her friends) and it’s back to real life again, she always feels so rejuvenated and ready to take on the world. She’s more patient and pleasant with her kids and somehow the strains of life give her a temporary reprieve. I really need to find time for that more often, she always thinks.

These are obviously two very different paragraphs, yet essentially they both say the same thing, don’t they? Tanya (a fictional mother) drinks, has fun, and seeks out intimacy. The difference is, when the only thing we read is paragraph #1, we tend to think something very differently about Tanya than we would if the only thing we read is paragraph #2.

As outsiders, we tend to watch other parents and we scrutinize their every action. We judge parents like Tanya based on the limited information that we get from externally observing her and her activities. We hold her against our own beliefs of what is right and wrong and we blatantly decide whether she is a fit parent or not. We see her out and about, being careless, having fun, going a little crazy with her friends, and we think what kind of mom is she?

Over the three days that Noah and I spent at the Westin La Cantera resort, we sampled a lot of their food and beverages. To me, there were two dishes in their restaurants that really stood out as incredible.

For breakfast, it was the french toast. This was on the menu at their restaurant Francesca’s at Sunset. I swear it melted in your mouth.

For dinner one evening, I ordered the short ribs. Slow cooked over four hours and reasonably priced, too. This was definitely one of the culinary highlights of our trip. 

As I mentioned before, Westin sent Noah and I to their incredible San Antonio La Cantera resort for the weekend. We spent most of our time by the pool, but as avid hikers, we couldn’t resist checking out their little hiking trail. It was an easy trail, about a mile long, and the chance for all sorts of adventure presented itself.

On SDL’s Facebook Page, I posted a simple question. “What is something you’ve found yourself saying to a child that you never thought you would?” The answers that came in have had me rolling on the floor ever since. Here are a few of them for your uninhibited laughing pleasure. Also, be sure to read the previous installments of You Said WHAT to your kid?

• When we draw a picture of someone, it is not necessary to draw their peepees as well.
• Boys! Take the frogs out of your mouths, put your swim trunks back on, and come inside for dinner!
• Stop licking the coffee table and eat your breakfast!
• Yes my boobies are big and soft. Yes they are good to use for pillows.
• Me: “Did I say lay down quietly and go to sleep? Or did I say jump back and forth from each others’ beds until one of you falls off and cries??” 5 year old: “Um..I think it was the second one but I’m not sure.”
• Stop licking the floor and get back in the tub!
• Take your underwear out of your mouth and put it on.
• Get your head out of the dog’s mouth.
• No, you can’t eat the dead spider.
• We don’t eat our friends!
• Why is there poop on your face?
• It’s probably not a good idea to lay in the dog’s bed after taking a shower!
• Don’t let the dog put his tongue in your mouth!
• Our peanut butter sandwiches do not go in the VCR.
• NO! Urinal cakes are not for eating!
• Do not lick your brothers bum!
• We don’t chew on batteries.
• We don’t use our poop to paint pictures.

As I mentioned in my last post, Noah and I crashed for a nice long nap as soon as we got to the La Cantera Westin resort in San Antonio (compliments of Westin Hotels & Resorts themselves).

When we woke up, I pulled out the suggested itinerary and started reading the options of what we could do together now that we were here. There was all sorts of good stuff. Incredible kid activities. Golfing on one of the nicest courses I’ve seen, etc., etc. But Noah only wanted to do one thing.

Swim.

So we did.

And then later we swam again.

And later we swam again.

And then later we swam again.

Sure, we could swim at home. But it just isn’t the same as swimming at a place like the Westin. I mean, look at this pool.

It was only a couple weeks ago that I took Noah to Disneyland. On trips like that, you have to get the most out of your money so it’s GO GO GO GO GO GO GO, sleep, GO GO GO GO GO GO GO, sleep, GO GO GO GO GO GO GO.

When I came home I was almost more stressed than before we even left. And so, when Westin offered to send Noah and me to their San Antonio resort for a few days, I jumped at the chance. I mean… three days of poolside relaxation and fun? It was just the mental relaxation that we needed.

So, I loaded Noah up and we headed to San Antonio.

My son’s mom and I have two very different belief sets. She’s a devout church-going Christian. I’m a spiritual agnostic. She finds peace in a pew. I find peace on a mountain top.

Up to this point, it hasn’t been too big a deal when it comes to co-parenting our son. I let her take him to church, and she lets me take him hiking. We have a mutual agreement that we will both always be passionate about our personal beliefs but never tell him what he must believe.  It will always be his choice, we’ve decided.

And now that he’s getting older (he just turned five), he’s starting to see that mom and dad live different kinds of lives, and he’s starting to ask questions. This means that for the first time, he’s going to have to start processing our distinctive beliefs and start deciding for himself what he himself wants to believe.

On Sunday, I picked him up like I always do, and I asked him what he did that day, just like I always do. “I went to church,” he said.

“Oh, did you like it?”

“Yeah,” he responded, and then added, “Daddy, why don’t you like church?”

I wasn’t quite prepared for his question. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“Why don’t you like church?”

“Do you like church?” I asked him.

“I don’t know. There’s some things I like. But Daddy, why don’t you like it?” I went on to explain that Daddy doesn’t believe in the same things Mommy does and that’s okay because everybody in the whole world believes different things and it’s up to each person to figure out what feels good for them and to believe in it.

“Well why does Mommy like church and you don’t?”

I could hardly believe these questions were coming from a five-year-old. “Well,” I said. “You know how Mommy believes in Jesus?”

“Yeah.”

“Daddy doesn’t know if he believes in Jesus. Daddy believes in other things.”

“But Dad, don’t you know that Jesus made everything, even the whole world?”

“That’s what some people believe,” I told him. “And if you want to believe it, that’s okay.”

He thought about it for a little while. “Dad, why don’t you and Mom think the same stuff?”

I had to ponder my answer. I really wasn’t prepared for this conversation. “Noah, when you go to church do you feel happy or special?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. Lots of people feel happy or special when they go to church and if you like feeling like that, and you want to go to church, that’s okay.” He didn’t reply. “But Daddy never felt very happy or special when he went to church so I don’t go to church anymore.”

“You didn’t feel happy at church?” he seemed doubtful.

“Nope. Do you know where Daddy goes to feel happy and special?”

“Where?”

CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE

Noah has been working lately on not eating his boogers. And by working on it, I mean that he’s working on doing it more discretely. And by more discretely, I mean he doesn’t care at all. No matter how much I beg, warn, threaten, plea, or ask, he shoves his finger up his nose whenever he feels like it and munches on whatever tasty morsel attaches to it.

This, of course, disgusts Dad who gets very sick, very easily, at the sight of other people’s boogers. And when I get another person’s booger on me … well, it’s all over. Such instances are at least semi-decadal, always freakish by nature, and when it happens, I become absolutely paralyzed. I dry-heave while trying not to ralph my lunch onto whoever or whatever happens to be in my path.

Anyway, Noah’s little habit has gotten bad lately. And so, I’ve been getting on his case every time I see him with his finger in his nose. If I have to watch one more booger go into his mouth, I may lose it. “Everybody picks their nose,” I tell him. “But you’ve gotta do it in the bathroom where nobody can see you, and you’ve gotta put it in a tissue, not in your mouth.” He always chirps back, “Okay!” so innocently. And then he usually digs immediately back in for more.

I don’t know how I’m going to break him of the habit, but I’m determined to.

In the meantime, I’ve gotta find a way to survive it.

Sunday night, we were at a big family gathering. We were standing around before dinner while my dad introduced all the visitors to us regulars. I was holding Noah, and in the middle of it all, his finger went knuckle-deep into his nose at the same time that he locked guilty eyes with me.

My lips tightened and I gave him a look that said: “Tissue. Bathroom. Now.”

While keeping his eyes glued to mine, he slowly pulled a green slimy booger out of his nose. “Noah, that’s disgusting.” I stammered as my stomach clenched-up on me. “Don’t you dare eat it. Go wipe it on something appropriate, right now.”

His eyes were still locked on mine and he cracked a tiny, mischievous grin. Then, it happened.

CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE (CLICK HERE) >>

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Yesterday on Single Dad Laughing, I posted a video of a child having an extremely dramatic and humorous tantrum. It had me laughing harder than any video I’ve seen in a very long time. If you missed it, you can go watch it here.

What I honestly couldn’t believe was how many people in the comments had something negative to say about it. The dad should have been parenting differently, some said. That child needs a spanking or stern discipline, others declared. All he’s doing is teaching the child this and such, others chimed in. How cruel to sit there with a camera pointed at a kid in such distress, others claimed.

Dude, are you serious?

Thank God the majority of people saw it for what it was. Which was funny as hell.

If there’s one thing I know from writing my blog, it’s that everybody has an opinion when it comes to parenting. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been chewed out by complete strangers for the way I’ve done things with Noah. Inevitably, and for the exact same things, I am always praised by others.

I remember once I wrote a post about Noah writing on the couch with a marker. I called him over and asked him if he knew who did it. The blog post was about how it humorously sucks to be an only child sometimes because there’s nobody to blame things on. Should have been funny. End of story. But, in classic parent fashion, a few people jumped down my throat to tell me how I was turning Noah into a liar, how I shouldn’t ask him questions I already know the answer to, etc. etc.

I remember back then I was like, Dude… are you serious?

If there’s one thing I want to make sure, it’s that my kid doesn’t grow up terrified to sing in front of other people. Not that I feel some deep urge for him to do it as a living or something; I just want him to never experience what I did as an adult. You see, I spent a lot of years not doing much singing in front of others because of the fears of not being good enough or being made fun of.

But in secret I would still sing. In the shower, I would still sing. In my car, I would still sing. And I always hated that I couldn’t ever let loose in front of others the way I really wanted to.

I believe every person is a singer. It doesn’t matter if perfect technical abilities are there. Something within each of us longs to do it. Don’t try to deny it. You know it’s true as much as I did in years past.

Anyway, my son’s early timidity for it has already given me plenty of motivation to give him confidence in it while he’s still young. And this is how I’ve done it so far…