Today Wasn't a Normal Mother's Day

Waddup y'all. Happy Mother's Day.

Today wasn't a normal Mother's Day in our house. Let me set the scene.

My wife flew back from a work trip in New York earlier this week. Caught a cold on the way home (not from the city, just the standard travel germ tax). She was pushing through it, doing what moms do. Then my toddler came down with norovirus. Then she got it from him.

So last night, while she was on the floor of the bathroom dealing with the symptoms no human wants to experience, I had our toddler on the other side of the house throwing up every hour on the hour. Like clockwork. I took him to our guest room, laid down with him and every hour it was the same song and dance.

Eventually his stomach settled. I crawled back into bed. And boom. That's when it hit her.

Not the version of Mother's Day she imagined.

This morning I had a sick toddler, a healthy infant, and a wife who needed to rest and recover. Trying to keep the toddler away from the baby while both of them tried to crawl all over me, managing naps, feedings, the whole thing. It was a lot. And honestly? I would have been completely underwater if my mom hadn't shown up to help.

Which is what got me writing this.

Christen.

I owe her everything.

Before I met her, she had already worked at Instagram. Then TikTok. She was living in Beverly Hills bringing in serious money from brand deals on the side. And she quit all of it to go all in on Clara for Creators, her company. She's one of the very small percentage of women who've raised venture capital. She's done deals with Meta, TikTok, Mastercard, Gusto. Real, big, hard-fought work.

(Side note, Clara is actually how we met. I saw the company, looked up the founder, and slid in her DMs. So I owe her my career AND my marriage to the same decision she made.)

When I was thinking about leaving corporate to start my own thing, my parents pushed back. And I get it. My dad started his own business 25-30 years ago and the early days were brutal. They didn't want me, Christen, or our kids going through the same struggle they did. That was love talking. They wanted stability for us.

Christen wanted that too. But she also believed in me more than I believed in myself.

I had four months of severance. I was trying to start a scalp care company that ended up not working. There were a million reasons to play it safe. She kept telling me we'd figure it out.

She's done all of this while raising one kid. And now two.

She is the reason I had the courage to bet on myself. She is the reason Social Playbook exists. She is the reason I'm not in a corporate job right now slowly losing my mind. And on top of all of it, she's an incredible mom, a great money saver (the unsung hero skill of every successful founder household), and the most supportive partner I could ever ask for.

Today she got dealt a sick day on Mother's Day. Tomorrow she'll be back at it.

Her name is Elisa.

When I was a kid, she was the one driving me all over Atlanta. Acting auditions. Basketball practice. Football games. If I needed to be somewhere, she got me there. That was her full-time job for years.

Then when I was in middle school, she went back to school.

She got her associates degree. Became a nurse. Then went back and got her bachelor's. Then her MASTER'S. All while working nights and weekends as a nurse so she could still show up at our basketball and football games. Still make sure my brother and I were good before school. She didn't miss the things that mattered.

She started in the ER. Became a trauma room specialist. Then a manager. Then a director.

I had no excuse growing up to ever say I was too busy or I just didn't feel like it. Because she was doing all of that. In real time. In front of me. She didn't tell me you can always reinvent yourself, she showed me. Day after day after day.

When I see her step in like she did this morning, scooping up my toddler so I can take care of my baby, I'm reminded that she's been doing this same thing my entire life. Showing up exactly when she's needed. Without being asked. Without making it about her.

That's my mom.

I was lying in bed last night between toddler puke shifts thinking about how much these two women have shaped my life. My wife gave me the courage to leap. My mom built the foundation that made me capable of catching the landing. Without either of them, I'm not the person writing this newsletter to you right now.

The wild part is most of what they've given me wasn't said. It was shown. Modeled. Demonstrated through action when no one was watching. The kind of stuff you don't fully appreciate until you're older and you start to see your own patterns and you realize, oh, that came from her.

If you have a mom like that in your life, call her today. If you ARE a mom like that, I see you. The work you're doing is shaping someone whether they tell you so or not.

Happy Mother's Day to the women holding it all down. For their families. For their men. For their kids. And for the single moms out there who have to be both at once. I don't know how you do it, but I'm in awe.

Talk soon,

Chase