My 30th high school class reunion came and went recently. I didn't go for lots reasons I won't bore you with here (chief among them: that whole "leave the house and talk to people" thing), but if I had gone, I know I would have needed to have been ready to answer The Question.
"So, what do you do?"
The Question is tricky, because into it I read a deeper one: "who are you?"
Who I am, in large part, is a wife, mom, and homemaker. I am other things, too—school volunteer, Bible study facilitator, church worship team member—but these are the big three.
What I do, in large part, is take care of my husband, our children, and our home. I do other things, too, but again, these are the big three.
I don't have another answer to The Question. I can't say that I'm a teacher or engineer or nurse or administrative assistant or electrician (though I wish I could on that last one, because this old farmhouse sure could use some new wiring).
Not having an answer other than "I'm a wife, mom, and homemaker" doesn't bother me. What bothers me is that I feel like I need one...