I am finally feeling like I'm on the mend. Julia's mucus is finally clear, though there's far too much of it for her comfort. Kristin is continuing to slide downhill. If she's not showing drastic signs of getting better tomorrow I'm sending her back to the doctor.
Since Julia has been having such a hard time sleeping, we've resorted to the lullaby tape. It turns out that Julia loves music, and as long as something sweet and high-pitched is playing, she will relax her way to sleep, or just hang out not-quite-sleeping. The only problem is that the lullaby tape, while not as bad as other tapes of the same genre, is still pretty insipid. The only reason we even have it is that it was a gift. I only put it on out of desperation. Now we've listened to it over and over until we're all (except Julia) SICK of the thing. I want to go to the store and find something (or, preferably, several somethings) easier on adult ears for her to listen to. We haven't made it out of the house, yet.
This afternoon I could not stand the thought of listening to the lullaby tape again. So, I dug through our CD collection (still nicely organized from my organizational spree in August) until I hit our classical collection and there found a CD of Mozart Concertos. Light, sweet, high-pitched, perfect. Except I haven't listened to this CD in years. It has a recording of the bassoon concerto that I used as my audition piece for the University. I never did feel like I perfected that concerto, but it was so damn fun to play. I think I've only listened to this CD once or twice since I was forced to stop playing. Each time I have cried as if my heart were made of salt.
But I'm older now, I thought. That's all behind me.
I was ok through the clarinet and oboe concertos. I used to play those instruments, but I never attempted those pieces.
It's snowing here. The flakes are slowly coating our cars, covering up the raw wounds in the mud field that should be our lawn, fleshing out the skeleton of our garden. The trees are iced, and each note of the bassoon is alternately feathers and needles. My fingers and the corners of my mouth keep twitching. Julia loves Mozart. I'm worried that if I turn it off she'll wake up. This pain is preferable to the lullaby tape.
The track has switched back to the clarinet concerto that opens the CD. When I put the CD in I pushed the repeat button so the music would play for as long as Julia would sleep. If she stays asleep I have 35 minutes before my nerves flare back to life.
Or I could be a coward and push the skip button.
I will not be a coward.