The other day I filled out the paperwork to register my son for Pre-Kindergarten. Earlier in the week I filled out paperwork at the endodontist’s. On both forms, under employment I wrote the name of my business. And promptly freaked out inside. Because I have a business. Kinda.

I’m a sole proprietor, so I do business under my name, not the “company” name on my website, or my business cards. (Ahem, if I had a website and business cards, that is. Note to self: Get a web site and business cards.) And really, “sole proprietor” feels far too legal. I’m only a sole proprietor because that’s the door you go through, at the end of the long hallway called Hobbyist. It’s a business, because it’s not a hobby. I mean, I’m a freelancer, for corn sake. I don’t have a company. *Breathes into paper bag.*

Really the only time I invoke the magical business fairy dust is when my kids are pestering me. I’m working, I say. And I must say, that goes a long way to relieve my guilt. And soon my kids will be back in school, and I’ll devote the whole day to working. And when I meet parents and teachers, and they ask me what I do, I’ll say I’m a graphic designer. I’m hoping it will feel more official then. But maybe it’s like the word “grownup.” You don’t feel like one, even though you are one.