When Rosebud was born, I packed a couple of cds to play in the hospital.
Not music cds. The downside of being something of a music geek is that I tend to analyze music. All music. Anytime. Which makes it distracting, rather than soothing, if I’m not wanting to really listen to it.
Nope. I packed recordings of frogs.
This confused a lot of people – including all the nurses in the maternity ward. Frogs? Why would anyone want to listen to a bunch of amphibians while recovering from a c-section??
I’ll tell you why: because they’re soothing, that’s what. There’s no chord line, no central tonality, no sonata form. An argument could be made that frogsong includes a plethora of idée fixee, but since it’s not something I can recreate on the piano or analyze with solfege, it’s all good. I love listening to frogs.
Last night, God must have figured I needed an aural pick-me-up, because the local frog chorus debuted their opening repertoire for the 2013 season. I spent awhile on the front porch swing with Natter (who was blessedly silent for ten consecutive minutes, if you can believe it), just enjoying the frogs.
Usually the concert only lasts a couple of hours, after which they pack it in for the night. But it kept going. It actually got louder the later it got. I cracked the bedroom window open and drifted off to sleep to the frogs sometime around midnight.
Sometime around 3:30, the Moose crashed through the door, wailing that he was hungry. Mr. Caffeinated gets night duty for the kiddos, ‘cause once I make it up the stairs I ain’t coming back down till morning. Problem was, he wasn’t in bed.
No problem. Go look at the computer (sometimes he works really late) or in the recliner (where he goes when his back hurts). The Moose charged out.
The frog chorus was still going strong, and I drifted back off.
Five minutes later, the Moose was back. No Daddy! Where Daddy??
I dunno – look in the guest room? Maybe he needed the firmer mattress?
Off he went. I checked back out.
He brought back his sister. Now there were TWO kids hyperventilating at me at ten minutes shy of 4 AM. I don’t know where he is – have you looked in ALL the rooms in the house? No? Go do that before you come back in here.
Daddy was eventually discovered on the couch in the family room, sawing logs. I know this because he tromped upstairs and blearily inquired as to what I needed at this time of night.
Me? I don’t need anything except sleep. Can you feed the frantic one?
At least the frogs were still going. Ahhhhh…