If awesomeness were measured on charts, I think it's safe to assume that when comparing your awesomeness ratings with your parents' over the years, there would be ups and downs for both of you. They were probably cooler than you when you were a baby, but you probably surpassed them during your totally cool college years or when they started eating dinner at 5:30 and requiring lumbar support. I, on the other hand, have been losing the contest since the day I was born and don't think I'll ever have a winning score.
My parents, Cheri and Brian, have always been more hip to the music scene than me, they’re funnier, tell better stories, and can drink more. My dad was an amazing football player and my mom had tons of boyfriends. I could never kick a soccer ball—can't even do a cartwheel!—and never had a boyfriend when I was a teenager. Their lives have have followed wilder paths than mine. I see pictures of them, like this one, when they were about my age and think, "They probably wouldn't have wanted to have anything to do with me if we had been classmates or neighbors instead of blood relatives."
I thought I was alone in my feelings of ineptness, but of course, there's a blog. My Parents Were Awesome features cool pictures of your mom and dad together before there was you, and scrolling through them is rather addictive. I think what I like about them is that there isn't any text. Just pictures and pictures, leaving you to imagine what these people were like, what's going on between them, what they're dancing to, and where they are now.
And now the blog is a book, so you can read it in the bathtub (that's totally something I would do, not something my awesome parents would do) or give it to your awesome parents as an awesome present.
Meanwhile, I'm back to trying to up my awesome points to surpass Cheri and Brian. Maybe my kids will be cooler than them. Maybe awesomeness skips a generation.