Cool parents

I was listening to the radio the other day and a song came on-- I don't remember which song it was exactly, but it was an oldies song-- that reminded me of "Sugar Pie Honey Bunch". This song sticks out in my mind (and probably will for the rest of my life) because of a skit night at family camp when I was in high school.

My friend H and I donned two of my dad's khaki pants, button down shirts, and blazers, stuffed them with pillows, and "sang" this song to two boys wearing women's dresses. (I know, awkward all the way around, right? It seemed like a good idea then. Oh, high school judgment calls.)

My dad had no idea we had stolen from his wardrobe until he saw the performance. (He was not very happy.) But the point is, he SAW the performance. He was there. We were at family camp, and all of the parents of the, ahem, performers were there.

Another crazy component of that skit night is that I wanted to be there, at family camp. In high school. I liked, well, still do like, being with my parents. They weren't the richest or most glamorous parents in the world, but they were/are smart, disciplined, interesting, hospitable, educated, funny, and attractive. I knew my sister and I were loved. I knew that with our family was a place they, too, wanted to be.

Yes, we had our fights, and there were times we couldn't stand each other I am sure, but I never felt not loved or not valuable.

So what if my parents weren't the "cool parents" who let me do whatever I want? So what if they made me change my clothes if they felt my skirt was too short? So what if they only let me go out with Ryan once a week? They were awesome parents.

And I guess that's why I wanted  to be with them.

I hope my kids can say the same thing in 25 years. That would be cool.