Mom Brain Is Real — And It’s Not You, It’s Cognitive Overload

The neuroscience of the mental load — and how AI can help you think, plan, and breathe again.

I was standing in front of the open fridge at 11pm, staring at leftovers I couldn’t remember making, when I realized I’d been mentally running through the next day’s logistics for twenty minutes straight. Daycare dropoff time, the pediatrician appointment window, whether we had enough diapers, if I’d responded to that work Slack about the deployment schedule, when my son last pooped, whether that mattered for the doctor visit, if I should bring the diaper bag or just carry him in the infant seat, which meant I needed to move the seat from my partner’s car tonight, which meant I should text him now before I forget — and somewhere in that spiral, I’d completely forgotten why I opened the fridge in the first place.

This wasn’t sleep deprivation, though I was definitely operating on fragmented sleep with a seven-month-old who thought 4am was party time. This was something else. Something that felt like trying to juggle seventeen browser tabs while someone keeps opening pop-ups you can’t close.

I have a Master’s degree in Forensic Psychology. I understand how stress affects executive function. I can explain the neurological mechanisms of cognitive overload in my sleep — which is ironic, because cognitive overload is exactly why I can’t make basic choices about what to eat for dinner anymore. But knowing the science behind why you feel like your mind keeps hitting pause in the middle of a sentence doesn’t actually fix the problem. It just means you get to feel like you should be able to fix it, which adds guilt to the cognitive overload.

Knowing the science doesn’t make the chaos stop; it just gives it a name.

That’s when I stopped feeling weird about the fact that I’d been using ChatGPT like an external hard drive for my brain.

The Invisible Labor That’s Actually Visible In Your Brain Scans

Here’s what I wish someone had told me before I became a parent: the mental load isn’t just “a lot to think about.” It’s a specific, measurable, neurologically observable form of cognitive burden that researchers have been studying for decades. When psychologists talk about cognitive load theory — which educational psychologist John Sweller first described back in 1988 — they’re explaining how working memory has seriously limited capacity. You can only hold about four pieces of information at once for roughly twenty seconds before your mind starts dropping tasks or making errors.

How Cognitive Load Really Works

For mothers, this manifests as what researchers call the “mental load” or “cognitive labor” — all the invisible planning, remembering, anticipating, and organizing that keeps a household and family functioning. This isn’t a new observation. Back in 1989, sociologist Arlie Hochschild published her landmark book “The Second Shift,” documenting how working mothers essentially worked a full second shift of housework and childcare after their paid jobs ended. She found that this added up to approximately one extra month of labor per year compared to their partners.

But it’s the neuroscience that really makes it click: this isn’t just about fairness or gender roles, though those matter. It’s about what happens in your actual brain when you’re responsible for tracking and managing hundreds of variables simultaneously.

There’s this well-established phenomenon in psychology called decision fatigue — the idea that the more decisions you make throughout the day, the worse your decision-making capacity becomes. Now take that concept and apply it to early motherhood, where you’re making dozens of micro-decisions before you’ve even had coffee. Breast or bottle or both? Left boob or right? How long since the last feed? Is he hungry or tired or overstimulated? Should I try to get him to nap now or will that ruin bedtime? Is that a normal cry or a pain cry? Do I respond immediately or give him a minute to settle?

By the time you get to actual “decisions” like what to make for dinner or whether to respond to that work email, your decision-making energy is already spent. You’re not lazy. You’re not somehow failing at basic adulting. Your brain is literally running out of cognitive resources.

What Brain Scans Show Us

And here’s the part that made me feel both validated and furious when I finally understood it: this is measurable. Researchers studying maternal stress have used brain imaging to see what’s actually happening. When mothers hear their babies cry, multiple fMRI studies show activation in the amygdala — the brain’s threat detection center — along with regions involved in motivation, emotion regulation, and sensory processing. Your brain isn’t just feeling something — it’s calculating: What does this cry mean? What’s the probability of different causes? What’s my action sequence for each scenario? How urgent is this on a scale from “wants to be held” to “actual emergency”?

But it gets even more interesting. A 2019 study looked at mothers’ brains during rest — not while they were responding to their babies or doing anything actively parenting-related. Even at rest, mothers showed heightened connectivity between the amygdala and the anterior cingulate cortex, regions involved in threat detection and attention. Even when you’re still, your mind doesn’t completely rest. That hypervigilance — constantly scanning for threats to your child, mentally running through scenarios, planning for contingencies — is adaptive from an evolutionary standpoint. It kept babies alive when threats were immediate and physical. But in modern life, where the “threats” are mostly logistical and systemic, it just means your nervous system is perpetually in a low-grade stress state.

Why Decision Fatigue Hits Mothers Hard

A 2010 study in Psychological Science found something particularly striking about how this cognitive burden affects actual parenting. Researchers looked at 216 mothers with twin children and measured their working memory capacity. They found that mothers with poorer working memory showed significantly more reactive negativity when dealing with challenging child behaviors. For mothers with poor working memory, differences in their children’s challenging behavior explained 36% of the variance in maternal negativity, compared to only 1% for mothers with strong working memory. The researchers concluded that working memory is essential for emotion regulation — when your cognitive capacity is maxed out, you simply have fewer resources available to regulate your emotional responses.

Multiply that across every interaction, every decision, every moment of the day. Then add in the meta-layer of tracking what your partner knows versus what you need to tell them, what the daycare needs to know, what the pediatrician needs to know, what your own mother will judge you for if she finds out. You’re not just managing tasks. You’re managing information flow across multiple people and contexts, often while also trying to work, maintain relationships, and theoretically take care of yourself. It’s an invisible job with visible costs.

No wonder you can’t remember if you ate lunch.

The Numbers Don’t Lie: This Is Disproportionate

Recent research has started quantifying exactly how unequal this cognitive burden is. A 2024 study published in the Journal of Marriage and Family surveyed 3,000 U.S. parents and found that mothers handle 71% of household mental load tasks compared to fathers at 45%. And these aren’t just occasional tasks — mothers manage 79% of daily, core mental load responsibilities versus fathers’ 37%.

Sociologist Allison Daminger’s influential 2019 research broke down cognitive labor into four distinct stages: anticipating needs (identifying what’s coming), identifying options (researching possibilities), making decisions (choosing among options), and monitoring progress (tracking outcomes). She found that women do more cognitive labor overall, but most significantly, they disproportionately handle anticipation and monitoring — the most invisible stages that partners often don’t even realize are happening.

Another 2019 study surveyed 393 married or partnered mothers and found that 88% felt solely responsible for organizing their family’s schedules, and 78% felt solely responsible for their children’s overall well-being. The researchers found that mothers who felt disproportionately responsible for this invisible labor experienced greater feelings of emptiness, lower life satisfaction, and higher levels of feeling overwhelmed.

Here’s what really got me: even when mothers work full-time or earn more than their partners, the mental load doesn’t decrease proportionally. The 2024 study found that working mothers were actually twice as likely as fathers to reduce their work hours or leave their jobs, in large part due to the mental load. This isn’t about having more time — it’s about the cognitive burden being culturally assigned to mothers regardless of their other responsibilities.

Related: 20 Ways ChatGPT Can Save Your Sanity (Productivity Hacks for Exhausted Moms)

But statistics alone don’t capture how it actually feels — or what happens when you finally hit capacity and realize you need help.

The Part Where I Admit I Was Resistant Too

I need to be honest about something: I was deeply skeptical about using AI for parenting stuff at first. Not because I’m a technophobe — I’m literally a software developer, I work with code every day. But there was this instinctive resistance that felt like: isn’t parenting supposed to be the one thing that’s purely human? Aren’t we supposed to figure this out through intuition and connection, not by asking a chatbot?

That resistance, I realized later, was coming from the same place as a lot of parenting guilt: the idea that if you’re not doing everything from scratch, from your own internal resources, you’re somehow cheating. It’s the same impulse that makes people feel guilty for using tools that make parenting easier. We’ve internalized this narrative that difficulty equals virtue, that struggling is proof you care.

But here’s what shifted for me: I started thinking about it the same way I think about other tools that extend human capability — see How to Use ChatGPT for Moms: A Real Guide (When You’re Too Tired to Think). I don’t feel like I’m cheating at my job because I use Claude or documentation or colleague expertise. Those are tools that help me solve problems more efficiently so I can focus on the parts that actually require human judgment and creativity. Why should parenting be different?

The thing that really made me reconsider was recognizing how much of my mental load wasn’t actually the meaningful parts of parenting. It wasn’t the moments of connection with my son, or reading his cues, or responding to his needs. Those parts, I was fully present for. Those parts felt intuitive, even when they were hard. What was draining me was all the meta-work around parenting: the planning, the researching, the decision-making about routine logistics, the mental Tetris of scheduling, the trying to remember what I’d read in seventeen different parenting books and whether that applied to our specific situation.

That stuff? That was taking up so much cognitive space that I had less capacity for the actual parenting I wanted to be doing.

What AI Actually Does (And Doesn’t Do) For Your Brain

Let me be extremely clear about what I’m talking about when I say I use ChatGPT to help with the mental load. I’m not asking it to parent for me. I’m not using it to interpret my son’s emotions or make decisions about his care. I’m using it as a place to sort through the logistics that would otherwise live in my head. For the logistical and informational overhead that would otherwise live entirely in my already-maxed-out working memory.

A Real Example: Introducing Solids Without Losing My Mind

Here’s an example from last month. My son was around six months old, starting solid foods, and I was trying to figure out a feeding schedule that worked with our routines. I’d read about baby-led weaning and traditional purees and combination approaches, and I intellectually understood the options, but I couldn’t hold all the variables in my head long enough to make a coherent plan. What times? How much? What order relative to milk feeds? How does this change as he gets older? What if he’s at daycare some days and home other days?

Instead of spending three hours researching and taking notes and trying to synthesize information while my brain felt like it was actively melting, I took fifteen minutes to dump all the context into ChatGPT. His current milk feeding schedule, his wake windows, our work schedules, what I’d read about different approaches, my specific questions and concerns. Then I asked it to help me think through a flexible framework that could adapt as things changed.

What I got back wasn’t a rigid schedule or a prescriptive plan. It was a structured way of thinking about the variables. It helped me see patterns I couldn’t see when everything was floating around in my overwhelmed brain. It organized the information I already had into something usable. And crucially — this is the part that matters — it freed up cognitive space so that when I was actually with my son, trying foods, I could be present and responsive to his cues rather than mentally calculating whether we were doing it “right” according to some framework I half-remembered reading.

The prompt I used looked something like this: “I’m introducing solids to my 6-month-old and feeling overwhelmed by all the approaches. Here’s his current schedule: [detailed info about his day]. I want to do a combination approach with some purees and some baby-led weaning. Can you help me think through a flexible framework that accounts for the fact that some days he’s at daycare and some days he’s with me? I need this to be adaptable, not rigid, because he’s unpredictable.”

What came back was organized, thoughtful, and most importantly, it was synthesized from information I gave it. It wasn’t telling me what to do. It was helping me think through what I already knew in a way that my depleted brain couldn’t do efficiently in that moment.

Related: How I Use ChatGPT to Survive Mom Life (Real Prompts + Examples)

The Prompts That Actually Help (And Why They Work)

I’ve tried a lot of different ways of using ChatGPT for parenting logistics over the past several months, and I’ve learned that prompts work way better when they’re specific about context and acknowledge complexity. The prompts that fail are the ones that expect simple answers to complicated situations. The ones that work treat the AI like what it actually is: a processing tool that can help you think more clearly through information you’re already working with.

Prompts only work if you treat them like a conversation, not a command. One pattern I use constantly is what I think of as the “context dump + specific question” format. I’ll give it way more information than feels necessary — my son’s current sleep patterns, what we’ve tried, what worked and what didn’t, what I’m worried about, what constraints we’re working with — and then ask it to help me see patterns or generate options I might not be considering.

For example, when we were dealing with the four-month sleep regression and I was losing my mind: “My 4-month-old’s sleep has completely fallen apart. He was doing 4-hour stretches at night and now he’s waking every 90 minutes. Here’s what his day looks like: [detailed schedule]. Here’s what we’ve tried: [list]. I’m not interested in sleep training right now, but I’m also not sure what else to try. Can you help me think through what might be contributing to this and what gentle adjustments might help, keeping in mind that I need solutions that don’t require me to have perfect consistency because I’m too tired for that?”

What I got back wasn’t “do this one thing and it’ll fix everything.” It was a breakdown of possible contributing factors based on developmental milestones at that age, suggestions for small tweaks to his daytime schedule that might help, acknowledgment that sleep regressions are often just something you survive rather than solve, and importantly — validation that inconsistency is normal and doesn’t mean you’re failing.

The validation piece is actually huge. Because part of what makes the mental load so exhausting is the constant second-guessing. Am I doing this right? Is there something I’m missing? Should I be trying harder? Having something that can say “yes, this is normal, here are the variables that might be at play, here are some options to consider” takes the emotional charge out of the decision-making process. It’s not about outsourcing judgment — it’s about getting help with the processing so you can exercise your judgment more effectively.

Another type of prompt that’s been unexpectedly useful is asking for help translating between different parenting frameworks. There’s this weird thing where every parenting book or approach acts like it’s the only valid option, and if you’re trying to pull from multiple sources, you end up with decision paralysis. I’ve used ChatGPT to help me understand how different approaches actually overlap or conflict, which makes it easier to figure out what hybrid version might work for us.

Something like: “I’m trying to understand how respectful parenting principles intersect with the idea of routines and structure. Some sources make it sound like any routine is too rigid and you should be purely child-led, but other sources say babies need predictability. Can you help me think through what a middle-ground approach might look like that respects my son’s cues but also gives him enough structure to feel secure?”

The answer I got actually helped me understand the false dichotomy I’d been stuck in. It broke down how routine and responsiveness aren’t opposites, explained the research on predictability and infant stress regulation, and helped me see how I could create flexible structure rather than choosing between chaos and rigidity. That’s the kind of synthesis that, theoretically, I could have done myself by reading multiple books and taking notes and thinking it through — but in reality, with my current cognitive capacity, I wasn’t going to do. The mental load of even organizing that kind of comparative thinking was beyond what I had bandwidth for.

Related: Toddler Tantrums: ChatGPT Prompts for When You’re About to Lose It

The Stuff That Doesn’t Work (Because You Should Know What Not To Try)

I want to be clear about the limitations here, because I think it’s dangerous to over-promise what AI can do for parenting, and also because I tried some approaches that absolutely did not work.

ChatGPT is terrible at real-time, in-the-moment emotional support. If you’re having a breakdown at 3am because your baby won’t stop crying and you ask it what to do, the response will probably be generically helpful but not actually comforting in the way you need when you’re in crisis. It can’t read your emotional state. It can’t give you the kind of presence that you get from texting a friend or calling your mom. When I’ve reached for it in those 3 a.m. meltdown moments, it felt flat — like static instead of comfort. It almost made me feel worse — like, great, now I’m so isolated I’m trying to get emotional support from a chatbot.

It’s also not great for anything that requires real-time judgment about your specific child in a specific moment. If you’re trying to figure out if your baby’s cry means they’re in pain or just angry, ChatGPT can’t help you. That’s human pattern recognition that comes from knowing your specific kid. Same with trying to determine if a behavior is normal or concerning — you need your pediatrician for that, not an AI that’s drawing on general information and can’t see or assess your actual baby.

The times I’ve gotten the least useful responses are when I’ve asked vague questions or expected it to make decisions for me. “What should I do about sleep?” is too broad and context-free. “Is this normal?” without specifics just gets you generic reassurance that might not apply. “What’s the best way to handle tantrums?” without information about your child’s age and development stage and your family’s specific context will get you a response that sounds helpful but is basically a parenting article you could have Googled.

And here’s a big one: it can’t replace community. I’ve tried using ChatGPT to workshop parenting decisions that really needed input from other parents who’ve lived it, and it just doesn’t hit the same. When another mom tells you “yeah, that phase is hell, here’s what got me through it,” there’s something in that peer validation that can’t be replicated by an AI generating text based on training data. The specificity of lived experience, the knowing laugh, the “oh god yes I remember that” — you need humans for that.

Where it works is in the space between “I need to figure this out right now” and “I have time to research this properly.” It’s a processing tool, not a replacement for human judgment or human connection.

The Guilt Conversation We Need To Have

Let’s address the thing that’s probably been sitting in the back of your mind this whole time: does using AI for parenting stuff make you somehow less of a parent? Are you supposed to be doing all of this from your own internal resources as proof that you care enough?

Why We Feel Guilty for Wanting Help

I’ve thought about this a lot, because I felt that guilt too. There’s something about admitting you use ChatGPT to help manage parenting logistics that feels like admitting you’re not naturally good at this. Like you’re taking a shortcut that other mothers don’t need because they’re more competent or more devoted or just better at the whole thing.

But here’s what I keep coming back to: the idea that mothers should be able to manage the entire cognitive load of running a household and raising children without external tools or support isn’t traditional or natural — it’s actually a really recent, really specific, really unrealistic cultural construct. For most of human history, mothers raised children in community. Extended family, neighbors, older children, other adults in the household — caregiving was distributed. The mental load was shared. No one person was expected to hold every detail of a child’s care and development and household management in their head simultaneously while also potentially working outside the home.

The nuclear family structure with one or two parents managing everything in isolation is the aberration, not the norm. And we’re trying to do that isolation thing in a world that’s exponentially more complex than it was even a generation ago. More information, more choices, more expert advice that contradicts other expert advice, more awareness of every possible developmental milestone and risk factor and optimal approach.

Why Using Tools Isn’t Cheating

Using tools — including AI tools — to help manage that complexity isn’t cheating. It’s adapting. It’s being resourceful. It’s recognizing that your brain has limits and instead of pretending you can do everything, you’re being strategic about where you focus your finite cognitive resources.

I think about it like this: if I’m spending less mental energy trying to remember whether we have diapers or coordinate the logistics of doctor’s appointments or synthesize contradictory parenting advice, I have more capacity for the things that actually matter. For being present with my son. For noticing his cues. For responding with patience instead of overwhelm. For enjoying the moments instead of mentally running through tomorrow’s schedule.

The guilt often comes from this idea that difficulty is how we prove we love our kids. That if you’re not struggling and sacrificing and doing everything the hard way, you must not care enough. But I call bullshit on that. Making parenting harder than it needs to be doesn’t make you a better parent. It just makes you more exhausted.

What This Actually Looks Like In Practice

I want to give you a concrete sense of how this plays out day-to-day, because I think the abstract conversation about AI and parenting can make it sound more complicated or more revolutionary than it actually is.

Most days, I’m not using ChatGPT for anything dramatic. I’m using it the way I’d use a really knowledgeable friend who has time to help me think through logistics. Yesterday, for example, I needed to figure out how to adjust my son’s schedule because we’re about to transition from three naps to two, and I couldn’t hold all the variables in my head clearly enough to make a plan. I spent maybe twenty minutes having a back-and-forth conversation with ChatGPT about his current schedule, what signs I was seeing that he might be ready to drop a nap, what that transition typically looks like, and how to handle the messy in-between period where some days will need three naps and some days will need two.

What I got wasn’t a perfect schedule I could implement immediately. It was help thinking through the logic of the transition in a way that my tired brain couldn’t do efficiently on its own. I still made all the actual decisions. I’m still the one reading my son’s cues and adjusting in real-time. But I didn’t have to spend three hours researching wake windows and reading contradictory advice and trying to synthesize it all while my brain felt like static.

(If you’re deep in this stage, see The Nap Transition Nobody Warns You About for more detailed help on how to handle this transition.)

Other times, I use it more proactively. On Sunday evenings, I’ll often do what I think of as a “week prep” session where I dump everything I know is coming up — work deadlines, appointments, household tasks, developmental stuff I want to pay attention to with my son — and ask ChatGPT to help me organize it into something manageable. Not a rigid schedule, but a framework for thinking about the week that helps me see potential conflicts or crunch points before I’m in them.

That might look like: “Here’s what’s happening this week: [detailed list]. I’m trying to figure out how to fit in a grocery run, prep some meals so we’re not eating frozen pizza every night, and maybe have one evening where I’m not completely fried. Can you help me see where I might have pockets of time, what might make sense to batch together, and what I should probably just let go of because I’m overestimating my capacity?”

What comes back is usually a reality check. It’ll identify where I’m trying to do too much, suggest specific combinations that might work, and often just reflect back to me what’s realistic versus what’s wishful thinking. Having that external processor helps me make better choices about how to actually spend my time and energy instead of constantly feeling like I’m failing at an impossible list.

Quick Win: What You Can Do Right Now

1. Name the overload — it’s not forgetfulness.
2. Dump everything swirling in your mind into one place.
3. Ask your AI to organize or reflect it back.
4. Pick one small thing to let go of.

And sometimes — honestly, more often than the logistical stuff — I use it to help me process something emotionally complicated. Not for the emotional support itself, but for help organizing my thoughts. When I’m spiraling about whether I’m doing something right or feeling guilty about some parenting choice, sometimes I need to externalize the whole mess of thoughts and feelings before I can see clearly. I’ll write out everything I’m worried about, what I’m feeling, what the conflicting voices in my head are saying, and then ask for help identifying what the actual question or concern is underneath all the noise.

That looks like: “I’m feeling really guilty about the fact that I’m not enjoying every moment with my son, and I know intellectually that’s an unrealistic standard, but I keep seeing other moms who seem so joyful and present all the time and I’m just… tired. And then I feel guilty for being tired. Can you help me untangle what’s actually going on here versus what’s just comparison and unrealistic expectations?”

What I usually get back is some version of: here’s what research says about maternal ambivalence and parenting satisfaction, here’s what might be unrealistic in your expectations, here are the distortions that might be happening when you’re comparing your internal experience to other people’s external presentation. It’s not therapy — I’m not expecting it to fix anything — but it helps me organize my own thinking so I can figure out what I actually need, whether that’s more support or more realistic expectations or just permission to feel what I’m feeling.

The Future Part (That Honestly Excites And Scares Me)

Here’s where this gets interesting and also potentially weird: I think we’re at the very beginning of understanding how AI tools might support parents, and I’m genuinely curious about where it could go while also being aware of all the ways it could go wrong.

The version I’m using now is pretty basic. I’m typing out prompts, getting text responses, copying information into my notes or calendar. It’s helpful, but it’s still manual. I can imagine — and I’m actually working on building, because that’s the direction I want to take this work — tools that are more integrated and intuitive. Hands-free tools you can talk to so you can talk through problems while you’re doing dishes or nursing. Systems that learn your specific context and preferences so you’re not re-explaining your situation every time. Tools that can help track patterns over time in ways that would be impossible to see without long-term pattern tracking.

That could be really powerful for understanding your specific child’s rhythms and needs. But it also raises questions about data privacy, about what happens when you’re tracking that much information about your kid, about whether having that much data actually makes parenting easier or just creates a different kind of anxiety about optimization.

I think about the difference between tools that support parental judgment versus tools that try to replace it. The former is helpful. The latter is concerning. I want AI that helps me see patterns I couldn’t see on my own, that takes logistical overhead off my plate so I can be more present, that helps me access relevant research and information when I need it. I don’t want AI that tells me what my baby needs in a given moment or that gamifies parenting with metrics about optimal development.

The version that excites me is one where the technology actually gives parents more agency and confidence by reducing the cognitive burden and information overload that makes everything feel impossible. The version that concerns me is one where we are outsourcing so many of the small mental tasks that we lose trust in our own ability to read our kids and respond to their needs.

I think we get to choose which direction this goes. But we have to be intentional about it.

Why I’m Writing About This At All

I’m sharing all of this not because I think I have it figured out or because I want to convince everyone to use AI for parenting. I’m sharing it because I spent months feeling like I was somehow wrong or inadequate for needing help with the mental load, and then feeling weird about the fact that some of that help was coming from a chatbot.

And then I realized: the weirdness was coming from the same cultural narrative that makes mothers feel like we’re supposed to be able to do everything without support, without tools, without ever admitting it’s too much. The same narrative that treats asking for help as weakness and struggle as proof of devotion.

I have a psychology degree and a career in tech, and I still internalized that narrative. Which makes me think about all the mothers who don’t have those frameworks for understanding what’s happening in their brains and nervous systems when they’re overwhelmed. Who just think they’re failing at something that should be natural.

You’re not failing. Your brain is working exactly as it’s designed to work. It’s just that the demands we’re putting on mothers’ cognitive systems are far beyond what those systems evolved to handle. And until we make structural changes to how we support parents — which we absolutely should be doing — we need strategies for surviving within the current system.

If AI tools can help with that survival, I’m not going to feel guilty about using them. And I’m going to keep talking about it, because I think the silence around this kind of support perpetuates the idea that mothers who need help managing the mental load are somehow not good enough.

The mental load is real. The cognitive exhaustion is real. The decision fatigue is real. And using tools to help manage it doesn’t make you less of a mother. It makes you someone who’s being resourceful about protecting your limited cognitive capacity so you can show up for the parts of parenting that actually require your full human presence.

That’s not cheating. That’s being smart about how you use your mind.

If you’re ready to offload a few tabs from your mental load, start here:

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Written by Shae — alt millennial mom, developer, M.S. in Psychology. Fascinated by using AI to translate developmental research into survival tools for parents. Real experience where she’s lived it, evidence-based prompts where she hasn’t.

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