Who’s got it?
Family life takes a team.
Calendar changes. Tasks. Rides. Care. School. Sports. Tag Team brings the moving pieces of family life together — and makes it clear who’s got what.
Built for the whole family. Not just Mom. Private beta · iPhone · no ads, ever
The moment this is for
Family calendars tell you what.
Tag Team tells you who.
Everyone could see soccer was at 11:30. That was never the problem. The problem is the five seconds afterwards, when two people each assume the other one has it.
“I thought you had soccer.”
“I thought you had soccer.”
You both saw the event. Neither of you owned it. Sharing a calendar isn’t the same as sharing the load.
Practice moves to 6:30 and you’re already driving the other one.
Tag Team spots the clash, offers the people who could actually cover it, and waits for a real answer. Grandma’s got it ✓
The 9:47pm school email that changes tomorrow.
Forward it. Tag Team finds the early release, works out whose pickup that breaks, and asks them. Asked Dad · pending
You’re in Dallas Tuesday to Thursday.
Six things you normally cover fall inside that window. Five got handed off before you packed. One is still open and it says so. 1 still open
How it actually works
“Who’s got it?” → “I’ve got it.”
Asking isn’t covering. Tag Team holds it open until a real person says they’ve got it — and if the plan changes afterwards, their yes stops counting. Try it.
Dashed, unfilled, person-shaped. It never borrows the look of something that's handled.
Amber, with the time you asked. The day still isn't covered and the app won't pretend otherwise.
From their phone, in their own words. Then — and only then — the day reads covered.
An acceptance is to specific terms. Move the pickup and the old agreement is history, not coverage.
The app
Calm on top. Precise underneath.
Real screens from the iPhone build. Warm where you read it, exact where it matters — times, names, who agreed to what.
What's inside
One household truth. Nine ways to ask it something.
The same ride, sitter or errand is one record everywhere it appears — never a second copy that drifts.
Home is a brief
One line on where the family stands, then only what needs you, then today. A calm day gets told it's calm.
Everything's covered — enjoy date night.
Rides that split
There and home are different jobs. Two drivers, two answers, two chances for one of them to fall through.
There · Mom ✓ Home · asked Jenna
The one that changes your week
Paste the schedule, forward the newsletter, screenshot the group chat. It shows what changed before it writes anything.
63 messages. 2 change your plans.
A calendar with logistics in it
Day, week and month with who's driving and when to leave. Your Apple and Google events are read, never rewritten.
Leave 5:04 · 26 min · 8 longer
Tonight, around the table
Dinner planned against the evening it lands in. Practice at six gets a twenty-minute meal.
Wed · chicken tacos · needs cilantro
People, not contact cards
"George's coach, fall 2026." Roles carry their season and retire themselves. Gift history writes itself.
What did we get Grandma last year?
Care a sitter can read
Meds, vets, instructions, the fridge note. Logistics only — never a health tracker, never a medical record.
Pepper · 1 cup at 6 · no rawhide
Say it once
"Maya soccer every Tuesday at 5:30 at Swope Park through October" becomes nine dates. It asks only what it couldn't tell.
Saves 9 dates — through Oct 27
Everyone sees their part
Co-parent, teen, grandparent, sitter. Each signs in as themselves and sees the slice they need — nothing else.
Grandma: "I can get George."
How this is different
You probably already have three of these.
None of them can tell you whether the day is actually handled, because none of them knows what a yes is.
Shows what's scheduled.
An event on the calendar says something is happening. It never says who's driving, what to bring, or whether anyone agreed to any of it.
Repeats what you told it.
It can only remind you of things you already thought of. The hard part — working out what belongs on the list — stays entirely yours.
Reads, drafts, suggests.
Genuinely useful for getting messy information in. But confidence isn't agreement, and most will show a plan as settled when nobody has committed to it.
Tracks who agreed.
It reads your messages too. Then it turns the result into named responsibilities with real states — open, asked, accepted, declined — and it will not say covered without a yes.
Trust & privacy
Some of this isn't a promise. It's something the app cannot do.
A privacy policy can be rewritten. An architecture is harder to change your mind about — so three whole categories were ruled out before a line of code was written.
There's no advertising business to fund and no third party buying your household's patterns. Families pay for this, not advertisers.
It drafts the text to the carpool parent. You see the recipient, the channel and the words before anything goes out with your name on it.
Who's driving, who agreed and what's finished are settled by records and by you — never by a model's confidence.
Our story
“Just tell me what needs to be done” doesn't solve it.
I'm a husband, dad and IT professional in Kansas City. For years I watched small things fall through the cracks — a ride nobody confirmed, a form nobody answered — while my wife carried an enormous amount of the thinking that kept us running. I tried to take more of it on. But figuring out what needs doing is the mental load, and asking her to hand it over meant asking her to do the hard part first.
Join the beta
Leave town knowing the gaps are closed.
We're opening Tag Team to a small group of households. Tell me which part slips at your house and you're on the list.
Ask for an inviteOne reply from a person, not a drip campaign. No card, no countdown, no upgrade screen.