The Closet Full of Invisible Hats: Being a Woman, Mother, and Wife in a World That Assumes You’re Magic

There’s a closet in every woman’s life that no one sees.
It’s not where we keep our heels or our old maternity jeans (which are perfect for Thanksgiving!) it’s where we hang our hats.

The nurse cap.  The chef’s hat.  The chauffeur’s cap.  The accountant’s visor.  The referee whistle.  The emotional support helmet.  The therapist’s badge.  The motivational speaker mic.  The magician’s top hat.b The sexy date-night beret.  The grieving daughter’s veil.  The event planner’s headset. The coach’s cap. The laundry foreman’s beanie.  The “I-got-this” crown.

And most days, we swap between them so fast we forget we’re wearing any at all.  Until our neck hurts.

Being a woman, especially one who is also a mother and a wife, means being a master of quiet multitasking.  It means noticing when the milk is low, when the laundry pile is high, when the teenager’s tone means a fever is brewing, when your partner’s sigh means something is weighing on him, and when you yourself are about to snap… but you don’t, because there’s no time for that.

We don’t do it for applause.  And sometimes, the silence in return feels like erasure.
And when we do it well, so well that the machine runs smoothly, it’s even more invisible.

Where’s the parade for remembering every single birthday and dentist appointment?
Where’s the “thank you” for the meals we planned that everyone ate without noticing we were out of half the ingredients yesterday?

Where’s the recognition for the inner work we do just to stay soft and kind, when our patience is stretched thinner than our favorite leggings?

We carry a love that is ferocious and forever, and also quiet and convenient to ignore.

So today, let’s hang up all those hats for a second.
Let’s breathe.
Let’s recognize that we are architects of a million unseen moments.
And let’s remind the world (and ourselves): Just because we can do it all, doesn’t mean it’s easy.  Or fair.  Or free.

And we’re allowed to ask for help, grace, naps, and credit.

Because behind every thriving family is a woman juggling hats like a Cirque du Soleil act, while being told to smile more.

And yet… here we are.  Still showing up.  Still loving harder than we’re given.  Still wearing our hats like crowns.