I wrote this book for that version of you. The one just
trying to hold it together.
I wrote this book for that version of you. The one just
trying to hold it together.
Knows everyone’s schedules but forgets her own appointments
Washes the dishes while the rice cooks while the baby cries while your brain races
Handles the birthdays, the fevers, the moods, the missing school socks, the never-ending crumbs
Apologizes when you snap because no one else sees what you're carrying
I’m not here to tell you to get up at 5am.
I don’t have a magic planner.
I don’t even have a house help.
I wrote this during nap times.
While reheating cold coffee.
While crying into the sink at 10pm because I was tired of being the “strong one.”
What I needed back then wasn’t another quote about “balance.”
I needed someone to say:
“You’re carrying too much. Let’s put some of it down.” That’s what The Mental Load Reset is for.
Not to fix everything. Just to finally name it.
And help you shift the weight you’ve been holding in silence.
A short handwritten note from me (just something human)
The Mental Load Map – a printable tool to help you see what’s actually draining you
Option to gift it to another mom
Free shipping (local)
I’m a mom of two which basically means I live with a tiny boss who snacks all day, doesn’t nap, and asks me “Can a dinosaur fit in our fridge?” while I’m trying to cook rice and answer work emails with one eye twitching.
I wrote this book somewhere between reheating the same cup of coffee for the third time and hearing “Mama? Mama? Maaaamaaaaaaa…” for the 97th time in one day.
No nanny. No house help. No secret routine.
Just me, two kids, one brain cell left, and a whole lot of invisible labor that no one else seemed to notice until I started naming it.
This isn’t a book I wrote from a peaceful retreat.
I wrote it while wiping counters, handling meltdowns, stepping on LEGOs, and asking myself “How is it only 10:14am?”
I didn’t write this to impress anyone.
I wrote it because I cracked.
And I needed something real to hold on to.
Now I’m handing it to you.
Because if you’re holding it all and still smiling through the tired…
you deserve something that finally speaks your language.
I’m a mom of two which basically means I live with a tiny boss who snacks all day, doesn’t nap, and asks me “Can a dinosaur fit in our fridge?” while I’m trying to cook rice and answer work emails with one eye twitching.
I wrote this book somewhere between reheating the same cup of coffee for the third time and hearing “Mama? Mama? Maaaamaaaaaaa…” for the 97th time in one day.
No nanny. No house help. No secret routine.
Just me, two kids, one brain cell left, and a whole lot of invisible labor that no one else seemed to notice until I started naming it.
This isn’t a book I wrote from a peaceful retreat.
I wrote it while wiping counters, handling meltdowns, stepping on LEGOs, and asking myself “How is it only 10:14am?”
I didn’t write this to impress anyone.
I wrote it because I cracked.
And I needed something real to hold on to.
Now I’m handing it to you.
Because if you’re holding it all and still smiling through the tired…
you deserve something that finally speaks your language.