A cut-paper diorama of a family kitchen at dusk: a dad with a toddler on his hip and the dog’s leash in hand, a girl doing homework, and a mom on the phone reading a letter beside a calendar crowded with notes.

You carry so much.

School emails, forms, appointments, the practice that moved again, the birthday on Saturday. It never stops, and so much of it lands on you.

Homefellow is a private helper for your home that takes some of it off your shoulders, so there’s more room for the things you love.

Tell me when it’s ready
see how it helps

The everyday load

It never stops.

A paper-craft front hall: a mom with her arms full of letters and forms while more papers fly in through the mail slot, her kids and the dog all around her.

It isn’t one big thing. It’s a hundred small ones, arriving all day: the email about picture day, the form due Friday, the dentist reminder, the soccer schedule (version three), the car registration, the vet.

Each one is easy. Keeping all of them in your head is not.

And the remembering usually lands on one person. If you’re reading this, it might be you.

Everyone says technology will make life easier.

Most days, it just adds more to keep up with.

What it takes on

Some of it can be handled.

Homefellow is a private helper that lives in your home. It quietly takes on the small, repetitive work of family life, so it isn’t all on you.

A cut-paper diorama of a calm school morning: the girl holds up a plain white t-shirt, her little brother zips a lunchbox with a fish on it for the aquarium trip, and Mom smiles at a short note on her phone.

The school emails, read for you.

When the trip moves to Friday or the class needs a white t-shirt, it notices and puts it on your list, with the email one tap away.

Homefellow7:52 a.m.

From Ms. Alvarez

The aquarium trip moved to Friday. Move it on the family calendar?

Move itNot now

The original email, one tap away

A cut-paper year-wheel on the kitchen wall with tokens for the things that come around each year (a paw print, a car, a house, a tooth, a birthday cake) as the girl pins on the dog’s checkup and the family looks on.

The things that come back around.

Vet visits, the car registration, the furnace filter. When one is due, it’s already on the list, with the number to call.

Homefellowthis month

Maple’s yearly checkup is due

Riverside Vet, (555) 014-2290

I’ll take it
The family list on a cork board in the kitchen: Dad takes a card and the car keys, the girl takes a card and the dog’s leash, her brother reaches for the last one, and Mom smiles, relieved.

One list for everyone.

What needs doing, and who’s on it. Anyone can grab something, and everyone sees who did, so it stops landing on one person.

The family list2:40 p.m.

Pickup: Finn, 3:15

Ben’s got it
A big wooden-framed screen on the kitchen wall shows a paper sun and three colored rows as the family heads out in the morning, the girl pointing at the sun.

Today, at a glance.

A screen in the kitchen shows today and the week ahead, so nobody has to ask what’s happening.

The kitchen screen

Tuesdaysunny
  • Picture day
  • Soccer at 5:30
  • Trash night

And when you need to know something, like where the insurance card went, just ask. It shows you where it found the answer.

Names and notes here are made up, for illustration.

Why you can trust it

Help you can trust.

Help is only help if you can trust it. Here’s how this one earns it.

  • It asks before it changes anything.

    Every change waits for your yes, until it has earned the right to handle the routine ones, and then it always tells you.

  • It keeps your family’s life at home.

    It runs on a computer in your house. Nothing is sold, and nothing leaves without your say.

  • It knows what’s private.

    Each person’s private things stay theirs. The birthday surprise is safe.

  • It’s honest.

    Every answer shows where it came from, and it says so when it doesn’t know.

What it’s for

Lighter. Calmer. Happier.

A paper-craft garden on a sunny afternoon: two kids on a swing under an apple tree, dad laughing on a picnic blanket with the dog on his chest, mom reading in a hammock.

That’s what this is for. Not a perfect life. Just less to carry, and more room for the parts you love:

  • the slow Saturday morning
  • the walk with the dog
  • the bedtime story you don’t rush
  • dinner where nobody’s checking a phone

Put some of it down.

Homefellow is a free, open-source project, and it’s still being built. Leave your email and we’ll write when there’s something you can try.

We’ll only write about Homefellow, and rarely. No tracking, and every email has a one-click way out. Privacy