I am often perplexed at cocktail parties by the question, “What do you do?”  Candidly, what I do depends on who’s asking – my life doesn’t make sense to most people, and I’m often not ready for the questions (at best) or the judgment (at worst).  To some I answer, “I’m a political economy professor at Yale.”  That response usually prompts warm interactive questions through several rounds of drinks.  To others, “I work in emerging markets finance at Reformation.”  This answer tends to stop the conversation cold or provoke lengthy debate in certain circles on default risk and credit derivatives.  Yet others receive the answer, “I’m a mom,” from which proceeds a series of sparkling anecdotes about my precocious, smart, and affectionate 17-month-old daughter.

The truth is that I have three jobs.  I teach what I do and do what I teach – and, most importantly, I raise a little girl to pursue her dreams, too.  Each job defines and nurtures me, despite the apparent and real complexities of a life led in three dimensions (five, if you count my role as wife and, of course, independent damsel of the 21st century).

Pursuing competitive higher education or professional success on Wall Street was volatile but exhilarating – grand successes one day, humbling failures the next.  Knowing that I’d found love and we wanted a family grounded me in happiness, even when our first child was an early surprise that challenged some of my ambitions.   I even found a rhythm in my 30s to the intoxicating indulgence and risk-taking of my 20s (think, jetsetting and intrepid dating punctuated by some seriously poor judgment).  But deciding how to handle the details of my multi-dimensional life was deceptively difficult, and it didn’t help that no one had any real advice to offer.  Being so many things to so many people, including myself, has required an iterated game of intellectual and emotional Twister.  Each week looks a little different than the last; each day originates new challenges; each party brings forth new queries into my choices.  And no one except my husband and the IRS really understand what I do.

So I’d be lying to you – or any cocktail party guest – if I said that having three jobs is seamless or always graceful.  But the privilege and great fortune is in trying to make it so.  I do the best I can.  And then to hell with it.