Hey [FIRST NAME GOES HERE],

I spent weeks trying to find a card for Michael for Father's Day.

Visited all my usual card spots: the coffee shop that sells kitschy cards, the local book store, Whole Foods.

Nada.

Anyone else exasperated by the ridiculousness of these artifacts that are supposed to celebrate dads?

Just me?

tools + ties

Every single Father's Day card falls into one of these categories:

• tools + ties
• beer + bbq
• golf + gaming

See the common link?

Dad's are celebrated for having hobbies. For what they do in all their free time.

What is free time, again?

what are "mom hobbies"

Let's imagine if Mother's Day cards were like Father's Day cards.

I mean, it's been incredibly hard for me to even think of some "mom hobbies" ... cause I spend all my time and energy making sure everyone else is taken care of.

But yeah.

What Mother's Day cards in an alternate reality would look like...

• 🧘 Yoga Mat + Stanley Cup​
  ​Here’s to the woman who hydrates like a camel, stretches like a warrior, and hasn’t had a single uninterrupted down-dog since 2017.
• 👠 Red High Heel + Leather Bag​
  ​Because nothing says ‘relaxing weekend’ like chasing toddlers in stilettos and carrying everyone’s crap in your designer tote.
• 🔪 Murder Mystery Book Covers​
  ​Thanks for keeping the family alive and only fantasizing about murder in fiction. We see you, thriller queen.
• 🛍️ Target Shopping Bag​
  ​She went in for paper towels. She left with a cart full of dreams. You’re the real MVP of aisle 7.
• 🧴Multi-Step Skincare Routine​
  ​Because 47 serums is the only thing standing between you and total collapse. Glow on, goddess.

I'm so tired of this double standard in how society celebrates parental roles: dads get praised for presence, moms get praised for martyrdom.

the invisible load

When I tell people I got sick on a recent work trip to Dublin—like really sick, stuck in bed for three full days in a hotel room—every mom I’ve shared that story with has had the exact same response:

She nods. She smirks. She says, “Honestly? Sounds kind of amazing.”

Because when you're home and sick? You're not just sick. You're a sick person still momming.

You’re still fielding snack requests, figuring out where the clean shorts are, answering the “What’s for dinner?” chorus, and managing everyone’s emotional climate. You don’t actually get to rest.

But in that Dublin hotel room, for the first time in what felt like forever, I could lay still. No guilt. No to-do list. No tiny humans throwing tantrums or climbing me like a jungle gym. Just the quiet hum of Poldark on Netflix and room service. And it felt… luxurious. Not because I was in Ireland—but because I was alone and off-duty.

That moment drove home a painful truth: moms don’t just need a break—we need the permission to take one. And that’s the invisible labor we’re not talking about enough.

We carry the mental load. The calendar of pediatrician appointments and school theme days. The grocery list in our heads. The summer camp juggle. The packing lists. The teacher appreciation gifts. The toothpaste stockpile management. Even when we’re off the clock at work, we’re always on call at home.

The truth is: rest shouldn't require a passport and a fever.

celebrate joy, not just sacrifice

Here’s the thing: we don’t need more candles or cards that thank us for being superhuman.

We need space to be just human.

Instead of celebrating moms for how much they give, let’s celebrate them for who they are—outside of caretaking, outside of work, outside of survival mode.

Next Mother’s Day (and every day), I hope you get:

• A nap with no guilt.
• A gift that honors you joy, not just your labor.
• Permission to say, “I need a break,” without needing to be on death’s doorstep.

Because if no one is dead or dying… go home. And take a nap. Fully, gloriously, unapologetically.

​

You got this.

Cassandra

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113 Cherry St #92768, Seattle, WA 98104-2205
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