Our university orchestra, in which I play second violin, had a dress rehearsal this afternoon. I made extra certain that Eric could be home to watch the kids. He came home early from work and I ran off to the rehearsal, about a 10-minute walk away. I was bundled up in my winter jacket, hat, scarf, and mittens and still the cold was seeping through all of the layers. When I got to the auditorium, there were no string players to be seen. I realized that I had read the schedule too quickly and that the woodwinds were rehearsing first. And I also realized that Dio hadn't nursed for a few hours. There was no way he would be able to make it another two hours until the rehearsal was over. So I speedwalked back home, nursed Dio in a few minutes flat (urging him on with "nurse! nurse!" whenever he got distracted), and hurried back.
I was chatting with several other orchestra members, mostly men and women with grown children, about how I am going to manage nursing and bedtime on concert night. Several of them reminisced fondly about their nursing days and said, "I totally understand what you're dealing with!" One woman joked with me about letdowns that take you by surprise.
We'll see how the concert goes this Sunday. It will be another day of musical breasts, of nursing between tuning and curtain call.