Letters from the Founder

I have four children. Two stepdaughters — one fourteen, one ten — who move between our home and their other parent's. And two little ones of my own, three and one, who have no interest whatsoever in waiting for me to finish a thought.

I also run my own businesses. I have a partner. I have a life I love — and a mental load that, for a long time, threatened to consume it entirely.

Before any of this, I spent years working in property management, then running operations for busy organisations. My job was making sure everyone knew what they needed to know, and nothing got missed. I was good at it.

What I didn't expect was how completely that skillset would desert me the moment I walked through my own front door.

There was no single breaking point. That's the honest answer. It wasn't one missed school event or one dropped appointment. It was the accumulation — the quiet, relentless weight of being the person who held it all. The one who knew which child needed what for which week, which household had the medication, what the carer needed for Tuesday, what the school wanted by Friday.

My partner was present. He wanted to help. But the information all lived in me — in my head, in my phone, scattered across four different group chats — and I had no way to get it out and into a system we could both actually use.

I'd built operational systems for organisations for years. I knew exactly what the problem was. I just couldn't believe nobody had solved it for families.

So I built what I actually needed.

Not another calendar. Not another chore chart. A proper operational system — a shared command centre that means the mental load is visible, distributed, and no longer the sole responsibility of one exhausted person.

Built for families like mine: ones that span two homes, blend two sides, and still have to run as one.

That's Verlae. And if your family looks anything like mine, I built it for you.

I hope it gives you back a little of yourself.

To my organisers, family arrangers, household peacekeepers and all the wonderful contributors in between. I am thinking of you.

Spending the last three or so years wondering when — or if — I would sleep through the night again after having my youngest in quick succession, I knew I needed some help.

I am a list queen. And in saying that, sometimes I feel like I am forever writing them in Apple Notes or sending random messages to my husband after a business chat or a "what do we need to prioritise" conversation — and then, just like that, they're gone. Or more often than not, so long that our messages become an endless scroll of to-dos rather than the hey, I love you, what's going on today chats.

My lists have become my brain dump, my priority creator, my future planner and my trying-to-be-a-good-mum reminder system. Working in business over the last four years — and particularly in more recent times — I thought one night, just before bed: what if I created a system for my family?

It was after the third week of Monday nights where I had exactly fifteen minutes between each child to collect them, be home, and get the first one into bed by 5:30pm. I made it. And I felt genuinely empowered that between 3pm and 5:30pm I had managed a school meeting, school pickup, OOSH pickup, preschool and childcare pickup — done.

My app wasn't created that night. But I spent the days before strategising, preempting the onslaught, and making a plan. That night I realised the strategising shouldn't live only in my head. It needed to live somewhere we could all see it.

That's where Verlae started.

It is so beautiful watching the modern woman take pride in her home, her garden and her rituals. I've been discovering the world of women like Lydia Mullen and Jade Holland Cooper — watching how they tend to their homes, their gardens, their everyday moments — and asking myself: what are the small takeaways that could make something relatively inexpensive feel that much closer to the life I actually want to be living?

Four kids and four businesses later, the minor details in life are what make home feel like a home — not just the place where we all congregate, eat and sleep.

Whether you love a layered, collected space or an ultra-clean one, you can still embrace the beautiful. Some small things I've brought back: the coffee table book. Flowers that are robust and full but long-lasting (better for the pocket). And lovely lighting.

When everything is quiet at the end of the night and you're sitting reviewing the next day, you want to feel connected to your space — and to yourself. You don't need a multimillion-dollar home. But for the women out there, a connection to the space you're in, a quiet knowing that your home is glowing exactly the way you like it — that's finding the beautiful.

To all of those who plan Christmas six months in advance — my hat is taken off for you.

We all have aspirations of making Christmases and birthdays that much easier, and yet every year the expectations seem higher and greater. Kids today are requesting drones, squishies, Tamagotchis and Stanley cups — a world away from what those growing up in the seventies, eighties, nineties, and even the early two thousands would have thought to ask for.

I've decided that for my children — more so the older ones — we are going to revert to experience-type presents. Long gone are the days of endless reams of toys. The focus now is the experience, and the memory we can create together as a family. The older ones have really started to appreciate this. Toys get thrown out over the years, and money seems to slip through the cracks. But a day they remember? That stays.

In saying that, experiences can sometimes be more expensive than a generic present, and they add a whole new layer of planning and coordination that might have been quietly left to the side if it were just something they could unwrap on the day and enjoy at their own convenience. The invisible work just shifts shape.

And yet — I keep coming back to the beauty of a simple, well-presented gift. People like the after hours gifting lady on Instagram remind me that it doesn't have to be elaborate or expensive to feel considered. A small thing, beautifully wrapped, given with intention. There is something quietly powerful about that. In a world of more, more, more — the gift that has been thoughtfully curated and lovingly presented might just be the most memorable one of all.

From sticks to château — the revival of beautiful homes. The grace of space, country air, and the turmoil of turning something so run-down into an immaculately profound-looking house. Ah, the dreams. I will admit to being a chateau renovation watch-a-holic on YouTube.

Coming from a childhood of a renovating home, with a builder father and a brother who's a civil engineer, I was destined to see renovations and feel at home in them. The betterment of bricks and mortar. And now, in the age of kids, businesses and a marriage, these beautiful concepts of regenerating the past into a modern framework feel like something I can only dream to aspire to.

Some of us are in quaint one or two bedroom apartments, while others are in larger houses that carry the same feel as these French châteaus. But to most people, it's not the size that matters — it's the workings of these houses that make or break them.

We are no longer in an era of housekeepers and endless staff. But we can simulate that feeling of a butler with a finger on the pulse — the 2IC, the one helping you facilitate perfection. It's really control that we're looking for. These days, without a very large household budget, we have to rely on the small things to really count. Precious time with our loved ones is harder to squeeze in, and a week can pass in the blink of an eye.

When was it meant to be like this? I don't think it ever was. Maybe the double life isn't about closing the gap between two different houses — it's about closing the gap between who we are when everything is running smoothly, and who we are on the days it isn't. The aspirational version of us was never about the chateau. It was always about the calm.

There are very small windows of peace for my brain to wander these days, but it seems like the best clarity — the freshest breath of air — comes from a simple shower. Ah, the luxury.

One thought came to mind that I wanted to share from that intimate time: the concept of finding a way to be in love with your home.

For some it's the random moments of peace where you can collapse into the couch and let it hug you. For others it's walking around your home with everything in its place, or being pleased with yourself that you finally bought those flowers to put in vases around the house. There is something inside each of us that will spark that in-love feeling. It's the personal organisation that allows your mind to walk freely — knowing that some things in your house actually make you fall in love with it.

The wisdom of Marie Kondo — everything in its place, sparking joy, a sense of pure perfection — has given women and home organisers a new era of being proud of your space, creating room for your mind, and being able to walk into calm when the outside world challenges you.

I do understand that not everyone has the connection, or the desire, to reorganise to the point of colour coding. But each of us knows when we are organised in a way that feels relaxed — in our own way — and that is okay. I am someone who needs nearly nothing out. I grew up in a very "everything is to be put away" kind of house, and now as an adult I love it. It makes me feel properly calm. And yet I watch these beautiful homes on YouTube and see spaces with things everywhere, and the person living there is completely in love with their surroundings. I have decided to leave it to the perfection of individuality.

I created Verlae to give my mind the space to fall in love with my home again. To remember to buy the flowers. To go to sleep with everything put away for tomorrow. To light a candle and actually spend a few hours cooking — not as someone in a mad rush, but as someone who has a little room to breathe.

When you feel like it's all on you — even though logically you know it isn't — let's validate that emotion first. What you need isn't less on your plate. What you need is a structure and a process that gives you a way out. The option to choose peace. A machine running with fresh oil rather than one constantly grinding into problems.

There is something okay — even fulfilling — about being busy, if we change the word. Busy carries negative weight. A full life carries self-fulfilling proficiency. At the end of it all, we won't look back and ask whether we were busy. We'll ask whether life felt full.

Busy is autopilot. Busy is letting life control you rather than the other way around. I have fallen into this many times, and it has nearly always ended in a train crash — plans and emotions colliding at once — where I've had to retreat to a place of absolute empty just to realign. Exhausting. And the cruel part is that while you're doing that realigning, life keeps moving without parameters or control.

It is time to solve the problem properly.

Being in control of your time means keeping your expectations real and scheduling balance deliberately — not waiting until you are completely depleted before you allow yourself to rest. That is not balance. That is survival.

Let Verlae lift the load. Be your memory, your secretary, your household butler. Have a structure to lean on. Not balanced for a moment, then crashing. Balanced — permanently.

To those who love the intricacies — and to those who wish they did — I am covering you both.

It is funny when I do my lists. From an operations perspective — my corporate background — there is typically not enough detail in most people's planning. But when everything is written down, or I can settle into the knowledge that everything is in its place, I feel a sense of control and calm that gives me real breadth. The capacity to show up more fully for the people around me — as a friend, a sibling, a mum and a wife.

This has all come from a place of caring deeply for the people I love. And so my heart and soul has been translated into the app. Even though Verlae is a tech product, the differentiator is this: I have lived — and am living — so many different scenarios where I can take my own learnings, my own coordination, and build something helpful and meaningful from them.

I can't say I have lived it all. But I do think I have lived a range of experiences that touch so many beautiful families — and that is enough to build something true.

From baptisms to co-parenting, engagements and weddings, new schools and children at every different age — there isn't a moment that something real can't be translated into Verlae for more meaningful productivity.

My life is becoming the working brief for the better of Verlae. And for your family, as a result.

The mental load of a large family never ceases to amaze me. Mostly because just when I feel like things are under control, something finds its way back to the surface.

I think we carry this misconception that at some point we will reach the horizon of completeness — that we will feel an utter sense of relief that we have made it, and we can finally rest. But that horizon keeps moving. What we are actually craving is not completion. It is accomplishment. The feeling that we have put in our effort and moved forward. Being able to reflect on a long day and say: yes, I am one step ahead of where I was yesterday.

My husband has a wonderful saying — if by the end of the day you are one step further along than yesterday, you should feel like you have achieved; you are not stagnant. At times you don't need to be reaching for the stars or ripping through forty-eight tasks. You need to figure out your number one priority, do something about it, and take that in. Find some resolve in that.

This is especially true when you have a large family — and one where you also co-parent. Many lives merging together under one roof, each with their own needs, rhythms and expectations. Being the main coordinator of all of that — holding the rhythm of the house, keeping the peace, minimising the collision of plans — can be relentless. On those days, one step forward is not a small thing. It is everything.

When I look around my table and see all these little faces looking back at me, I am reminded of exactly why the one step matters. Not perfection. Not completion. Just forward. Verlae exists to help you find that step — and to carry enough of the load that you have the clarity to take it.