I think everyone in this world hates their parents, on some level. I think I've got reason for it, but then so does everyone else. It's that whole screaming teenage rebellion phase, the kid trying to go out and establish their own identity by pointing to their dad and saying "I'm not going to be like that!" and generally winding up exactly like that. That never really goes away. It just stops because you move out, you don't have to see each other's faces every day, you don't have to deal with the total nonsense things that drove you up a wall. And then you wind up seeing things from your parents' point of view and is that ever a frightening moment.
And there's always that one friend you know, growing up, who has the television-perfect parents, when everyone else's family is a horror story (or at least you make them sound like one, the way you talk about your parents, if you talk about your parents, when you're in school). That friend with the perfect parents, he hates his family too. He's got a list of complaints about the stupidest, most ridiculous things, and you'd trade places with him in a second, except. Except. You wouldn't, really, when you put it like that. Fucked up as they are, much as you hate them, your parents went a long way toward making you who you are. And odds are that's more flaws than not, and odds are they screwed you up beyond repair - most parents do, they're all human (or whatever) - but even with that-
What am I saying? Fuck it. If I could pick my parents, I'd pick Mary Poppins.