The dreaded question. "And what do you do?" My mind stumbles over Stay at Home Mom, Freelancer (but not these last few months), Cummings' Family Manager, etc. I need one of those terrible sweaters that's covered in cutesy embroidery listing, Nurse, Teacher, Chauffer, Chef, etc. with a checkmark next to each label. I'm all of it and more. I'm none of it but more. 

I hate that conversation unless I'm talking to someone who might get it. Doesn't have to be a woman, but we probably need more than a couple minutes. Once I stumble over my answer, there's a nervous laugh and an understanding "Yeah..." and then we talk about the things we love, what we want to be working on, something new we've discovered online or in the Bay. It's an inadvertent ice breaker because I've realized none of us know what we're doing. We're taking care of kids while caring for our own finances, relationships, and minds. Behind every halted answer to, "And what do you do?" is a field of commonalities that stretches and falls with the seasons of our lives. 

I'm deep in a season, calling it whatever feels right at the moment. I really need that sweater. (AND Beverly Goldberg in my life, for real. I LOVE HER.)