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There’s this collective assumption that summer is a time of rest.
Lighter schedules and long weekends. Hammocks and road trips. A loosening.

And maybe for some people, that’s true. But for me, right now, that assumption couldn't be further from reality.

With my four-year-old twins suddenly out of school, summer hasn’t opened up space, it’s compressed it. I’m working more, not less. I know I’m not alone. Every working parent I know is scrambling to do what was already too much, with fewer resources and more tabs open in our heads (and in our web browsers if you’re, y’know, me).

There’s the pressure to maintain a full workload as a solopreneur. To somehow be the “fun summer mom.” To coordinate coverage, playdates, fun activities—all with a kind of seamless ease that looks like balance, but feels like stress. See also: sweatier.

Of course, this isn’t just personal, it’s structural. There’s no real infrastructure to support working caregivers during this season—or frankly, any season. And the unpaid labor that keeps families afloat still defaults, culturally and logistically, to women. Summer just turns up the heat on that truth.

This tension—between what life is asking of me and what I’m actually resourced to give—has me thinking about timing. Not just in parenting, but in how we operate around unchecked assumptions in our work and messaging.
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• We assume people read what we write, when we send it (hello, are you there?)
• We assume our language is clear, but they’re distracted, so is it?
• We assume our audience feels welcomed, when maybe they’re still standing at the edge wondering, Is this for me? Especially when our timing feels off for their reality.

In last month’s email, I talked about design that listens, and how most brands are having monologues disguised as conversations.

Let’s get back to that thought, and probe further:
​What assumptions about timing are getting in the way of real listening?

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• That summer is slow.
• That the logo we loved 7 years ago still represents who we are today.
• That people will stay on our website long enough to find what's buried three clicks deep.
• That our message hits when people have bandwidth to consider it.
• That we will never again suffer the abuses of fascism.
  ​Ahem.

Instead, most of the time, people are just quietly opting out.
Not because they don’t care, but because something told them: this wasn’t made for you—or perhaps more precisely, this wasn’t made for you right now.

This is why design that listens has to begin with questioning our assumptions. About our audience, our timing, our energy, even our own narratives about what we should be able to carry.

So I’m sitting with that right now. Letting the friction of this season be part of the work, not something I try to hide from it (or from you, I guess).

So let’s reflect together:

What assumptions about timing are you working under right now? Are they still serving you, or are they asking too much of you?

If you feel like replying, I’d love to hear.
And if not, that’s okay too. Sometimes just identifying the question is enough.

High fives, pals
Reesa

P.S. If you’ve been here awhile you know I’ve been shaping a new offer behind the scenes—something that starts with this kind of listening, with timing at the very heart of it. I’ll share more soon.
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Thanks for being here!
​​Know anyone else I could help?
It would mean a whole lot if you'd forward this email along to them!

💖

About Reesa​
I work with people who give a damn—about their message, their mission, and the people they serve. With Ballyhoo, you get more than design: you get strategic partners who care about what you’re building, and who know how to help it land. Your message matters™. Together, we craft work that deeply resonates with your audience and helps you achieve your goals.
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As active member of the Association of Registered Graphic Designers of Canada, I'm proud to serve on its bright and tenacious Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion Committee.

Beyond design, I'm a parent to a young girl gang, and move from weightlifting to vernacular jazz dance (though seldom together), along with reading, cooking, and reading about cooking. I'm always happy to talk about vegetarian food or my temperamental sourdough starter, Pudding.