"Patience? I got mine waiting, waiting, waiting in the Navy!"

We grace this post with the title of a military ditty rather than with the perhaps more obvious allusion to the opening lines of Eliot’s The Wasteland (“April is the cruelest month / Breeding lilacs out of the dead land,” etc.) in consequence of a severe trial lately leveled at the patience of our beloved Lia: namely, we have, as yet, still but one child. Let not such disappointed expectations, however, undermine our resolve to present our readers with the latest installment of the week in review.

Monday: On this day the second child in the Collings family was, emphatically, not born. For Family Home Evening we were invited by Katie Ritchie—our fearless Relief Society president and the incomparable heroine who resolved the late scheduling disaster surrounding Lia’s surprise baby shower to the satisfaction of everyone involved, with the notable exception of the former Melinda Reynolds—to join the Ritchie family and the other families of Relief Society presidency members for root beer floats and amiable conversation. A good time was had by all, but we must reluctantly record one excruciatingly lamentable byproduct of the evening’s socializing: Madeline Ritchie (3) happens to be the proprietor of a small plastic school bus upon which lies a button, the pushing of which causes said bus to erupt in a maddeningly irritating rendition of the childhood classic “The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round.” Julia pressed said button no fewer than seven-hundred thirty-three times during the course of the evening, during which time she developed a fervent affection for this detestable song. Since Monday, Julia has demanded without reprieve that the song in all its variants (what the wheels, the babies, the mommies, the driver, the windows, the doors, the daddies, the shoelaces, and the monkeys on the bus do) be sung in perpetuity. As a result of Lia’s loving compliance with these demands, Justin’s sanity, like our inspired Constitution, will hang, ere long, by a single thread. In happier news, Lia found a perfectly cozy little home south of campus where we shall spend the summer. Justin was relieved at this development; Lia was euphoric. Lia was further contented by Justin’s decision to cancel his imminent trip to New England. He’s going to Yale anyway, so why leave a wife and two small children behind?

Tuesday: Happy 21-month day Julia!!! But not, alas, happy birthday Collings child #2. And this notwithstanding Lia’s indefatigable zeal in sweeping the floors, vacuuming the carpets, washing the mirrors, doing several loads of laundry (including the linens) and several rounds of dishes, making it a point to walk rapidly wherever she went, bending over on dozens of occasions to pick up scattered Mr. Potato-head pieces, and dancing the day away with Julia to the beat of the single most annoying tape of children’s songs under the broad heavens. This child, she concluded, will never come.

Wednesday: Not to be daunted by the previous day’s failure to induce labor, Lia bounded out of bed at the crack of dawn and almost immediately set to work on a vigorous cycle of high-impact step-aerobics. To no avail.

Thursday: At a doctor’s visit Lia was assured that Baby could arrive any minute—but evidently that particular minute was not among the 1,440 minutes that constituted Thursday.

Friday: While Lia was busy not giving birth, Justin learned that he is one of BYU’s two nominees for the Jack Kent Cooke Foundation scholarships. When Lia called her mom and dad to inform them of the good news, she was surprised to learn that they already knew. We can only presume that either her father learned the news through one of his special “telepathic experiences” or that this is another instance of the native tendency of Suttner women to hear only nouns but not verbs. Thus, “Justin applied to be one of BYU’s two nominees for the Jack Kent Cooke scholarship” is heard only as “Justin nominee JKC scholarship.” One can then insert whatever verbs seem appropriate to complete the sentence according to one’s whim and fancy: “Justin is BYU’s nominee for the JKC scholarship,” if you will. The news was felicitous, however unsurprising to some of our family members. If Justin wins the scholarship—which even the most ardent optimist might find it hard to think likely—it could mean up to $50,000 each year for up to six years of post-graduate studies.
In the morning we piled into the Big Blue Bull—lately rescued from imminent peril of drastic overheating—and took a family trip to Wal-Mart, that cynosure of all that is corrupt and evil in big business American capitalism (the prices are so good, however, that it becomes one to place his socialist idealism, for a brief hour, in one’s hind pockets). We picked up some items in preparation for the arrival of the baby that was not arriving, including a little princess wand that is to serve as the Baby’s propitiatory offering to Julia, who is sure to become a jealous goddess indeed upon said child’s arrival on the scene.

Saturday: A wonderful day spent thoroughly enjoying general conference and once again, in Lia’s case, not giving birth. In the evening Justin went to the general priesthood session with his dad (perhaps for the last time) while Lia and Julia attended a Relief Society-sponsored Girls-Night-Out (in the Multi-purpose Building, at least) where they performed service for a local literacy organization and indulged in a rousing round of Karaoke singing. Our informants tell us that Lia was properly electric in her rendition of “You make me feel like a natural woman.” Julia and a swarm of her cronies were veritably mesmerized by the wonders of Karaoke.
Lia warned Justin before retiring that the baby was going to come that night. Justin was struck with sheer panic, relieved only by his falling utterly asleep a few seconds later. When he awoke eight hours or so later, there was still no baby.

Sunday: As of this composition the baby has, alas for Lia, not come. Tired of waiting for the arrival of her apparently obstinate child, Lia determined to spice up the day by conspiring (successfully) to lock us out of our apartment during a walk around the Provo Temple we took in between conference sessions. The walk itself was intended to serve as a catalyst to the process for which we are all anxiously waiting. As it happened, we got to do a bit more walking—first to our ward community aide (they weren’t home) and then to our back-up community aide from another ward (they were home, but annoyed by the inconvenience). Justin, misunderstanding something Lia told him a couple weeks ago, thought we would be fined $50 for this service (it turns out the charge only applies between 11 p.m. and 7 a.m.) and was unfairly disgruntled with Lia’s excogitation. After we got back in the house, this misunderstanding was cleared up. Has all this waiting had a salutary effect on our patience? Only time will tell. For Lia’s sake, we close with an expression of our fond hope that next week’s installment shall contain news of far greater moment than any recorded here.