Your parents sounds like they were much better at it than mine.

The first time I remember being told by my father that he was proud of me was the day that I graduated high school. And though my mother told me that often, she wasn't the one I was always trying to impress.
When it came to discipline, dad would yell or reach for his belt first. Mom was the one that would count, then carry through if we still misbehaved.
Sometimes, in cases such as my brother and I fighting, she would take up the novel idea of letting us punish each other. She did this by taking us out to an area near our home where willows grew and having us each pick out a willow switch for her to swat the other with. My brother always picked big ones, thinking they would hurt more, while I picked out the long, thin ones that hurt the most. I don't think he ever figured that part out...

I still believe firmly in physical discipline, but I honestly feel it should be for scenarios where the child was putting their or anothers life in danger. Things like grabbing a child out of a busy street, then spanking them for going into it alone, but explaining to them why they got spanked, too.
Judging by my own experiences growing up, sometimes the lessons that stay with you best are the painful ones.