Mormon Momma

Do we keep our children from doing their best when we give them false praise and encouragement for half-hearted efforts?

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I have been struggling this month to figure out what to write about.

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August 1981
I never should have looked around at the ladies in our child-birthing class and picked out the statistical three who looked to me like they would end up having their babies by C-Section.

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Many years ago I lost a little niece to SIDS. I explained her death to my eight-year-old son as matter-of-factly as I could.

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Have you ever sat in a parenting class or lesson and felt like a complete failure? I have a friend who told me once, “If I had only had my oldest child, I would have thought I was the world’s best parent.

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My husband and I play Scrabble nearly every day, and he beats me an unfair proportion of the time, but on special days he always lets me win, by opening up triple-word-scores and not using them or trading in both blanks, anything to give me a much-needed advantage.

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It was with fear and trepidation, along with joy and elation, that I married a widower with five children, aging from 15 to 24—four of them boys—in December of 2000.

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