Mother’s Day is a weird holiday. Is it actually a holiday? A holiday implies a break or relaxation. My gut reaction each year is that I don’t want to do any of the stuff that I’m usually responsible for, but I either have to do it the day before Mother’s Day or push it back and play catch-up. And if I want any kind of celebration of me as the mom, I have to plan that and say, “Hey family, I want to have this meal and do this fun activity and force you all to fake smile and pretend that you like this thing that I want to do.” And that’s just mental load that I explicitly don’t want on this day that is supposedly about celebrating moms, and I don’t want to be made to feel like I’m burdening my family.

(However, I do think that Father’s Day should be the day where a father has to do every single thing for their child(ren), because in my world, that is never happening.)

So while I love my child immensely, being a mother makes me feel like a failure at everything in life, and Mother’s Day is just a heightened version of that feeling. It’s weird. So I usually just feel sad this whole day.

I recently got an advanced copy of What Do I Want to Be When They Grow Up? by Karen Johnson, and I really took my time with it, savoring each chapter. Every single one made me feel seen in a way that few books about motherhood have.

At first glance, I wasn’t sure this book would be for me. Based on the title alone, you might assume it’s aimed at women who left behind careers to raise their kids and are now trying to figure out what’s next. That’s not my story. I didn’t give up my career to become a mother, and I’ll probably still be doing the same work when my child is grown. And while I’m in on the downhill side of the 40s, my kid is still just 12, so she’s not flying the nest super soon. It will come, and that moment will feel like it landed fast, just like the fact that she is 12 seems completely impossible because she was a baby yesterday. But the title also feels like it’s for someone who is experiencing empty-nesting.

But here’s the beautiful part: it doesn’t matter. This book is welcoming and validating to all moms—whether you stepped away from a job, stayed in it, changed paths, or are still figuring things out. The truth that runs through the whole book is this: mothering humans is hard work. And while the world claims to appreciate moms, it often doesn’t show up in tangible, meaningful ways. We still judge mothers far more harshly than fathers in the same situations—and often, the harshest judgment comes from within.

There’s humor in these pages, too—plenty of it. It’s the kind of book that doesn’t pretend there’s a parenting “manual” out there. It recognizes we’re all working on completely different “projects,” so there’s no one-size-fits-all solution. What I loved most is that this book isn’t trying to tell you how to be a better mom.

I read a preview PDF copy through Box, which made highlighting nearly impossible—but there were so many moments I wanted to mark. Now that it is available on Kindle, I plan to go back and highlight the hell out of it. So many gems. (That said, I don’t know what to do with highlights in e-books. I’m sure all of these knowledge gurus would have plans for me to incorporate those in to Notion or AI libraries and truly learn from them. But for now, uh… I don’t do anything other than highlight something in my Kindle. Maybe it drives it into my brain more, maybe not.)

I’ve often felt like I wasn’t “meant” for this motherhood gig. Honestly, I still feel that way almost every single day. But picking up this book reminded me that most of us are just figuring it out as we go—flying by the seat of our pants, hoping we don’t mess it up too badly. And somehow, that makes me feel a little less alone.

If you’ve ever questioned your place in motherhood—or just needed to hear that you’re not the only one figuring it out—this book is worth your time.