Love is...

When your husband texts you good morning and that he loves you as he's getting ready for work. Love is also that you, at 5:58 a.m. and while on vacation 5 states away, manage to text him back that you love him too.

This past week, I escaped the craziness of work, church and baby preparations to spend some much needed time with my mom, dad, and friends. I have loads to tell about the trip, but first, I just wanted to share some things that typify my awesome mom and dad.

Me and the 'rents on our Glacier/Canada trip in 2001

I remember going on a family vacation my senior year of high school to Glacier National Park in Montana. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Like, the most beautiful place I have ever been. And Mom and Dad were hilarious. They were so funny throughout the trip that I started taking notes on the amusing things they said and did. (Sorry, Mom and Dad, if this mortifies you.) I still remember some of them. For example,

Aunt Elma, looking over the edge of a glacier in awe: You can't get any closer to heaven!

Mom: [Said with a hint of humor and a good dose of maternal warning] Step over that edge and you can.

and,

Mom: What a great day to fly a kite!

Dad: What a bad day to wear a toupee.

Maybe you have to know my parents to find these little exchanges funny, but trust me, they are hilarious. Anyway, there's just no way I could spend a whole week in Boise without resorting to the proverbial scribbling in my notepad (which now equated to typing on my iPhone). Here are some of the funny things they said and did, along with some sweet moments for memory's sake:

• Mom, Dad, and I have always been a bit like the three musketeers and when I visit, we just can't force ourselves to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Usually we end up talking until midnight or 1 a.m., sometimes sprawling out on my parents' bed to tell stories and entertain ourselves. Finally one of us makes the call to actually head to bed. It is at this point that my dad always, and I mean, each and every night, says, "Anybody up for a game of Red Dog?" I have to admit, I have no idea what Red Dog is. I think Dad explained it to me at one point, but I can't remember. It's arbitrary too, because I'm pretty sure Dad has never actually played this game, and certainly not during the time period that Mom and I have known him. Dad and I used to stay up ridiculously late playing chess, but... Red Dog? Invariably, Mom and I just give him a look that says he's a weirdo and head off to sleep, too tired to take off our makeup or ask what this bizarre game that only enters into his head at midnight actually is.

• My parents are ta-aaa-aaa-aaalkers! While riding in the back of their car to take my dad to the chiropracter, I couldn't help but just listen to their conversation. They were reminiscing about when cars had actual wood on the sides of them (not decals) and about when you'd have to put wood underneath your feet by the gas pedal to keep them from popping out onto the street beneath. They both were so excited and happy, just reminiscing about life and enjoying each other's company. After being married for 25 years and nearing their 70s, it awesome to see that they still have so much love for talking to each other. No sitting at McDonalds in stony, aged silence for my parents!

Mom and me at BYUI's Mother's Weekend in 2003

• Mom is really rather hip for her age, but I can't help telling this story on her. We were sitting in Shari's, my old high school hangout place, eating breakfast at 11 p.m. at night (which is sooo my family - Mom and Dad used to wake me up in the middle of the night when I was little to take me to a truck stop for pie). Mom was talking about American Idol and said, "I love Josh Durbin! He reminds me of Aerospace!" (IE, Aerosmith), followed shortly by, "... posted on Chatter." I couldn't help but cracking up. In her defense, she actually knows who Josh Durbin is (I do not and had to look up how to spell his name) and it was pretty late. She later said that at HP, where she still works full-time, they have a chat system called Chatter and also that she talks to people who work for NASA all the time on the phone. I think the last one's a bit of a stretch, Mom, but I'll give it to you. You are pretty hip, otherwise, even if you do occasionally have a slip of the tongue that makes me chuckle.

• 

  Dad at the Foulk's second apt in 2005. What a goof.

  My Dad is a story teller. An extreme one. Most the people in our extended family know that if Dad offers to tell a story, you better a) pack a lunch or b) run screaming from the room. Dad used to entertain me endlessly with his made up tales about the lady bug family that lived off of Fairview and had twenty kids. The lady bug dad was a dead beat alchoholic and the poor mother had to tie all twenty kids' eight footed sneakers before sending them off to school in the morning. It was a real tear jerker. Then there's his classic Christmas Bell Story (just when you think Santa's going to pick the littlest bell to adorn his sleigh, he changes his mind and goes for the glossy, big one) and his beloved impersonation of a fork and... well, you get the idea. This past week, he introduced us to his midget joke, which essentially involved him climbing onto a very wobbly chair while Mom and I squealed for him to get off, reaching his hand up very high, and saying, "Once their was a midget who was this... [lowering his hand about a foot] well, really this... [dropping his hand down lower]... actually, this [reaching his hand down past the back of the chair]... tall." So pretty much, the chair was 100% superfluous. Besides scaring us with the wobbly chair and his seemingly inevitable crash to the ground, he actually had us laughing. A lot. I think Mom was crying, even, and threw her pillow at him, yelling something along the lines of, "You idiot! You could have broken your neck! [Pause. Giggle] This tall!"

Us at the airport right before I left.

I think you can see why I enjoy going home so much, and why I cherish all the fun moments I have with my parents. They're great. Also, I'm pretty sure I've inherited some of their craziness. If my kids ever comment that I'm embarrassingly weird or unbearably silly, I plan on taking it as a compliment. That's how I mean it.

Cuz, Mom and Dad, you two are crazy. And very loved.