There's a Brain Underneath the Hair and a Heart Underneath the Boobs - Dolly Parton

The first time parents

I really loved the three years Jim and I have together before we became parents.  I feel we had adequate time to get to know each other and that we were prepared to embark on this thing called parenthood.  In December of 2007 I became a mother.  Once you have the title of mother pronounced upon you that is it.  There is no turning back.

The name Nyah was chosen after I watched the movie “Mission Impossible 2”.  Nyah was the name of the character played by the beautiful Thandie Newton.  I had always liked the name Mia but got a little turned off by the fact that Lleyton and Bec Hewitt named their daughter, Mia (Lleyton being an Australian tennis player and Bec, formerly Rebecca Cartwright whose claim to fame is/was the Australian TV series, Home and Away).  I was not a fan of Lleyton Hewitt at the time.  The name Nyah was just that little bit different without being too weird.  I was nineteen when I chose that name for a daughter I might never have.  It was years later that I discovered its origins.  It is Swahili and its meaning is ‘purpose’.  Given that our belief is that all are born into this world with a purpose, I like its meaning.  When you also know how planned this conception was, given that Nyah’s father is an extremely planned out and organised person, it gives more meaning.  It was Jim who had all the weeks and months mapped out of when we could start trying to conceive.  It needed to fit in with my university, his university and where we were living among other things.  I’m quite a spontaneous person and I don’t always think things through so for me, Jim is my reason, my calm in the storm and oft times my rock. 

March 2007 was, according to Jim, the most practical and fitting time to start trying for a baby.  Well, Nyah was conceived somewhere around the first week in March and arrived on her due date, the 1^st of December.  I actually went into labour at 12:15 on her due date.  It was a Saturday so Jim need not take an unexpected day off work (not that this would have been an issue, I just say it to illustrate how perfect the timing was to the very moment).  It was all very convenient.  So much so that a good friend of Jim’s jokingly said “you couldn’t have planned that any better”.  Jim also has issues with tardiness.  You can NEVER be late.  You can presume that Nyah got off on the right foot with her daddy from the very beginning.

Nyah was born after I completed my second year of university.  I attribute much of her brightness today not only as an inheritance from her father but also due to the amount of lectures she sat in during my pregnancy.  We know that there is great evidence suggesting that it is beneficial to speak to, read to and play classical music to your child whilst in the womb.  I believe that having them attend university in utero is also beneficial.  It might well explain why Nyah has the gift of the gab.  Second year had a lot to do with Language, Grammar and that dreaded subject titled Schools, Values and Reasoning.  A friend of mine whilst pregnant with her second child studied voice and amongst all her siblings, that child is the one with a stand out singing 

voice.

Nyah practising her nursing skills

I'm going to put it out there. Breastfeeding Nyah for the first two weeks was a nightmare.  I thought it was all going to be natural and beautiful, but for me it was terrible.  I was terrible.  It was toe-curling stuff.  Labour was a walk in the park compared to breastfeeding.  Finally, after a bit of blood, cracked nipples and a lot of tears, I learnt how to master the art of attachment and it became something I really enjoy.  So much so that I must confess today my 14 month old is still on the boob.  Neither one of us are about to give it up any time soon.
As a nursing mother, I find that whole skin on skin contact to be so beautiful.  It’s not all lovely.  I am sacrificing a little you know.  With each breastfeeding child, the little once plump little pillows get saggier.  It is just so worth it for that bonding.  I can have a day where I am just about ready to put all three of my children on eBay and then little Tori will tug at my leg, make the motion with her hands that she wants a cuddle, pull my top down a little, stick her little hand between my breasts and say “ooh ooh” (signalling to me what time it is), and that contact is really sweet.  That closeness and the gentle stroking I receive is not only a comfort for my little one but relaxation for me.

I love that part of motherhood and it's all over so quickly too.  Perhaps too it is something I feel I am in control of.  I fell needed.  Obviously there are women who legitimately can’t nurse their children or it’s not ideal due to varying personal or family circumstances.  Try as I may I just can’t understand why women would avoid it.  I’m sure there are people in this world who can’t understand why I have watched Days of Our Lives on and off since I first drew breath (thanks for that mum), just as I can’t understand why people would stand at a train station and drink coke and smoke a cigarette at seven in the morning (at all for that matter but in the morning more so - yuck).  I guess when you love something so much sometimes you can’t understand why others don’t.  When each of our children have reached the age of six months I have been able to look at their growth, with a heart full of thanksgiving that my body has been able to produce and provide them with nourishment, the sole nourishment for that growth to occur. Seriously, boobs and milk production, supply and demand and how it changes based on the needs of your baby are out of this world amazing.

So whether we like breastfeeding, don't, can't or won't I think Dolly Parton of all people has pointed this out to all women without mincing her words, "underneath those boobs is a heart".  Ah, the heart.  A willing heart and a loving heart.  Is that not the essence of true motherhood?

Great Expectations

Expectations, we all have them.  We Have expectations of both ourselves and others.  People who think they don’t have expectations of other people are either liars or they really haven’t thought about it deep enough. 

A few months ago I had a conversation with someone who said “I told them if they don’t expect anything from me, they won’t be disappointed”.  This person continued by saying “I don’t expect anything from others”.  Well that’s just plain nonsense if you ask me.  We ALL expect things.  If I was to purchase the latest gadget, I would expect it to do everything the book of instructions said it would do.  When I walk in to any Apple store, I expect to receive brilliant customer service.  At least fifteen young, eager sales people dressed in bright blue t-shirts would be there to pounce on me.  When I walk in to Spotlight however, I expect zero customer service. 

Nyah expects me to house her, feed her, clothe her and nurture her.  In return, I expect her to be help out in the home and give me snuggles once in a while.  My expectations of Nyah and her capabilities will increase as she grows and matures.  It’s like, you see that movie preview, and it all looks wonderful and you form an opinion of the movie based on the snippet you have seen.  You get this idea of what the movie is going to be like and in your mind is it going to be wonderful.  You see it.  Did it meet or exceed your expectations?  Or was it perhaps a little under par?

I expected to be the best mother.  The thing is I am learning that my best is different to your best.  What do I consider to be a good mother?  This might be very different to what you consider to be a good mother.  The important thing here for me is: am I magnifying my role as a mother, or at least what I consider to be a good one?

As a newlywed I expected that Jim and I would live in wedded bliss forever.  Our dating was uncomplicated, energetic, and fun.  We were so completely wrapped up in each other and all that magic of young love.  It truly was just like one of those old romance movies.  We never once had an argument of any description.  When we went on our travels overseas (as newlyweds) for the year of 2005 we were together 24/7. 

I’m sure most of you have seen an episode of the Amazing Race where couples enter this competition and in scavenger-hunt fashion, race around the world looking for clues to lead them to the next destination where there is another challenge to complete.  The ultimate goal is to be the winning couple at the end of the series.  This is much like what our first year of marriage was like only we were doing it all on a budget.  And the prize at the end was not monetary.  It was all about the experience.  In the Amazing Race you see couples’ relationships get pushed to the test as they try to overcome language barriers and other difficulties in foreign lands.  Sure Jim and I were not in any kind of competition, but we had not lived together before we married and this race-like environment where two people were getting used to having the other around them all the time, got a little tense at times.

My expectations of my marriage to Jim were that our lives would merge harmoniously and all would be sweet.  When Jim and I had our first disagreement I seriously thought it would end in divorce.  I was heartbroken.  Thankfully we were able to move past that disagreement and there have been a few more since then, all of which Jim will openly admit were his fault (of course).  That was another thing I never expected… to use the word ‘sorry’ as frequently as I do.

I’m at a crossroads as to whether or not having expectations are a good thing.  In the mind of my young friend who spoke of how she believed she didn’t have expectations of others, (as a barrier of protection I would presume) in theory it is perhaps ideal.  Or would we all just come off as unhappy customers?  When we set our expectations too high, and we come short, they have the potential to crush us.  Did you realise that God does not EXPECT us to to reach perfection on our own, here and now? So why do we often EXPECT that of ourselves? And then, to make matters worse, beat ourselves up about it.

My conclusions are:

"If you expect nothing, you can never be disappointed.  Apart from a few starry-eyed poets or monks living on a mountaintop somewhere, we all have expectations.  We not only have them, we need them.  They fuel our dreams, our hopes, and our lives like some super-caffeinated energy drink" (Tonya Hurley).  I do not endorse caffeinated beverages by the way, but Tonya makes a very good point.

So expectations of oneself are a good thing.  We need to expect things of ourselves otherwise we may never progress.  Even worse, we may never reach our potential.  It is the self condemning that we must avoid.  Just relax. ‘Life is a journey not a destination’ (I have heard that somewhere and I like it). 

Expectations of others are a good thing too.  Again, if we treat others in such a way that we would not expect more from them, they may perhaps never reach their true potential.  The comment "I expect more from you Nyah", is not a put-down, it is to remind her of her capabilities.  It’s the judgements and the criticism that really crush relationships.  If you give a gift and your expectation is to receive a thanks or at least some form of recognition and you receive neither… you can choose to pass a judgment (they were never taught properly, they are rude, they are ungrateful etc.), you can teach by example or give someone the benefit of the doubt (perhaps it just slipped their mind).  In reality this is hard, but I am learning it can make a huge difference in our relationships with others and the way we feel about ourselves.

I can’t tell you how many times I have gone into Coles Supermarket where the cashier has had a face on them like a thunderstorm.  My expectation has been that cashiers should always wear a friendly countenance.  Perhaps though, the expectations of me should change.  Perhaps I should expect to always brighten a sour-faced cashier’s day.  And if I don’t, I expect to have better luck tomorrow.

I apologise for my long-windedness (aka, fluff) with this piece.  I have been using this domain as a platform for getting it all out.  To sum up my thinking, I found this little gem by Bryan Tracy, a self-development author.  He says "an attitude of positive expectation is the mark of superior personality".  I like that word positive. I expect that will make all the difference.

The Dumb Blonde

I have never considered myself to be much good at anything really (please, I am not asking for pity here).  Not anything of real note at least.  For years I have admired in others the ability to draw and paint, take stunning photographs, quilt, cook, decorate cakes, sew, sing, act and dance.  I would love to be able to claim something as mine.  Not that I necessarily have to be the best at it, but I have that desire to find my niche. 

I wanted to be the best missionary when I was on Temple Square.  I had a blast, but upon reflection, I could have done so much more with that time.  I could have invited so many more people to hear the gospel message than what I did.  I’m not saying that I was a terrible missionary, it’s just my expectations of what I considered to be ‘the best’ missionary were not met, and thus, I come up wanting and perhaps regretting.

A Mission President is the father of the mission in whatever part of the world you do your volunteer service.  I had two Mission Presidents during my missionary service; one in the Temple Square mission, and another in the Pheonix mission.  It was my Mission President in Pheonix Arizona who said to me in my departing interview: “Sister Reeve, you have what I like to call ‘the dumb blonde syndrome’”.  Being the blonde that I am I was perplexed by this comment.  My expectation of this little parting interview was that it would be a feel-good moment where I would be given wonderful uplifting counsel that I would cherish for a lifetime.  Insults were something I felt would be left off the agenda.   President then went on to explain.  And here’s where it gets a little better.  He believed that for one reason or another I had told myself for a very long time that I was unintelligent and all that I had of worth was a good figure (at the time) and pretty long blonde hair.  Tie that all up in a ribbon of sass and you have Krissy Reeve right there.  This confidence that seemingly oozed from me was completely shot down by this American man in his fifties.  Here I had thought I’d had everyone fooled, but he saw right through it and had the gumption to tell me about it.  As a missionary I had all the confidence in the world.  The scripture found in D&C 121:45, reminds me of this kind of confidence: “…be full of charity towards all men… and let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong”.

 As a missionary I had a charitable heart, my thoughts and actions were in harmony with what my Heavenly Father would have wanted and thus I was a confident and bold missionary.  I guess my mission president’s concern for me was, when I ventured home, took off the missionary tag and slipped into life after the bubble of missionary service (in particular Temple Square missionary service), I would not realise my potential and thus search in the wrong places to find happiness and fulfilment.  I’m not talking about hanging out in dark dingy places.  Just simply being blinded and deceived by the subtle craftiness of the world, thus getting caught up in the things that are of little worth and forgetting who I really am and the person I have the potential to become.

What does one do when they have this ‘dumb blonde syndrome?’  President Booth told me that I must get an education.  My Temple Square mission President said the same in my parting interview however his advice was a little different.  At that time I had always felt that when one referred to education they were talking about a degree of some description.  Whilst President Booth talked about the value of me having a qualification, - that framed certificate hanging on the wall - President Crouch opened my eyes to other forms of education such as: being aware of what is going on in your community, current events in your country and around the world, doing things that are of interest, taking small courses to hone in on hidden talents and so forth.  One thing he did mention that stands out in my mind now is the idea of furthering my education in the gospel.  President Crouch saw it of utmost importance for women to be scriptorians.  It was the first time I had heard such an expression. 

After pursuing an education at University in the field of elementary education (which is at this moment on hold), in 2010 the words of my wise Mission President were echoed in these messages:  become “scholars of the scriptures… [we] need an acquaintance of His eternal truths for [our] own well being, and for the purposes of teaching [our] own children and all others who come within [our] influence” (Kimball, S. March 2010 Ensign).  Furthermore, “our children are growing up today surrounded by voices urging them to abandon that which is right and true and to pursue, instead, the pleasures of the world.  Unless they have a firm foundation in the gospel of Jesus Christ, a testimony of the truth, and a determination to live righteously, they are susceptible to these influences.  It is our responsibility to protect them (Thomas S. Monson, 2010).”

I am not nearly of the scriptorian calibre, but I have been promised by good men of influence in my life that if I seek out this education and apply it, I can be a powerful influence for good in the lives of others.  From experience as a missionary, having felt that confidence, I know that this will assist me in my self-discovery and the finding of my niche.  Perhaps I will combat this ‘dumb blonde syndrome’ after all. That would be a fairly good feat. Well, at least for a blonde.

Please Sir, I want some More

Here I am sifting through reflections of my upbringing thinking of characteristics that I could do away with and others that I should keep.  My Parents were born in 1934 and 1940 (sorry mum to reveal this to the readers, but you are doing well for an ol’ girl so don’t feel too bad).  Mum has said that when she was young, she wouldn’t dare back-chat her parents.  It was part of the Ten Commandments “thou shalt honour thy father and thy mother” (I’d like to note here that to my knowledge, the Ten Commandments still exist today even though some have tried to change them and/or devalue them).  People back then actually knew the Ten Commandments and strived to live them and not just the big ones like “thou shalt not kill”.  I’m not saying that in my parents’ generation that everything was next to Godliness, but there did seem to be a general respect for God, King, country, self and fellowmen.  At least this is the feel I get from associating a lot with this age group. 

My parents were big on manners.  I was constantly reminded to say “please” and “thank you”. 

I grew up practically living on my ‘uncle and aunt’s’ farm.  I was a tom boy.  I loved to get filthy dirty.  I played with the chickens, picking them up like babies from when I was about 20 months old.  I would cuddle up to and bottle-feed the lambs and roll around in the hay with the calves.  Later as I got older, I would climb large trees, build cubby houses with raw materials and in the winter I would be found in the creek constructing small dams, waterfalls and bridges.  I could not tell you how many gumboots I lost in the creek.  I would walk home bootless, having my feet turned blue on the journey uphill through the slushy fields, all the while getting swooped by plovers.  My father was a Scout Leader for many years and it was common for me to attend Scout Camp with him when my mother would have to work every second weekend.  I fit right in with the boys on those Scout Camps. 

When I had finally outgrown the cubby constructing business I took up other things like skateboarding.  I wasn’t awesome at doing tricks but I would give it a go.  A friend gave me his skateboard and I used to ride it to school, through town, up the Gorge for a swim and back to school again.  I must confess that most of my 11^th year at school I was found skating to and from the Gorge.  My mother decided it would be to my benefit to sign me up for a modelling and deportment course.  This was my mother’s attempt at turning me into a lady I am sure. 

The course provided me with knowledge on how to walk with good posture, sit and stand nicely, get in and out of cars keeping your knees together and other forms of etiquette from speech with a focus on interviewing and dinner invitations etc.  I was taught the basics of photographic modelling and catwalk modelling.  It was a turning point for me in my adolescence.  I did not find myself to be anything special as far as looks goes, but I was aware I was blossoming into a woman and that I was getting a little attention.  This in part developed my confidence.  In later years however, I was to discover that it was all a façade.  Deep down, I felt really small.