A home that serves the Lord, with less in the way.

Years of good intentions, scattered across a dozen places

We are the Kuehne family. For a long time our home ran on sticky notes, a whiteboard that nobody updated, group texts, and five or six apps that never talked to each other. The calendar lived in one place, the grocery list in another, the chores in our heads. Something was always slipping through, and the thing that slipped was usually the thing that mattered.

It was not for lack of trying. We bought planners. We set up shared calendars twice. We tried the chore apps and the meal apps and the list apps. Each one solved a sliver of the problem and added another login, another notification, another thing to keep up with. The house did not feel calmer. It felt managed, badly, from a phone.

And the phones were the other half of it. We noticed how often an evening disappeared into a screen, ours included. Distraction is the quiet tax on a modern home. It takes the leftover minutes that used to go to a conversation, a book, a walk, or just sitting still. We wanted those minutes back, for us and for our son.

Dissatisfied with what was for sale

When we went looking for something better, we found a market that seemed to want more from families than it gave back. The basics were locked behind subscriptions. The free tiers were built to nag. A chore chart cost one monthly fee, a meal planner another, a screen-time tool a third, and every one of them wanted a card on file before it would show you the second screen.

Worse, a lot of these products were designed to keep you inside them. The business model was attention, or data, or both. We did not want an app that treated our family's life as inventory, and we did not want to pay a small ransom every month to be slightly less disorganized. It felt greedy, and it felt backwards. The tool should serve the household, not the other way round.

So we decided to build the thing we wished existed: one calm place for the whole house, free for the things every family needs, honest about what it sells, and designed to be closed as soon as you have what you came for.

As for me and my house

My Domi is a Christian company, and that is not a tagline for us. It is the reason the app exists and the measure we hold it to. We believe a home is the first church a child ever attends, and that the ordinary work of a household, the chores, the meals, the schooling, the bedtimes, is holy ground. When we read Joshua 24:15, we hear a decision that has to be made again every morning, and we wanted tools that make that decision easier to keep.

That shapes what we build and how. We want a family's evenings to belong to the family, not to a feed. We want Scripture, memory verses and prayer to sit naturally next to the grocery list, because that is where they live in a real home. We want children to learn that work is good, that rest is commanded, and that attention is a gift you give to the people in front of you. We would rather make something small and faithful than something large and hollow.

Our son is two. We are building ahead of him.

We knew early that we wanted to homeschool. Our son is two years old, so the first lessons are still a little way off, but we did not want to wait and then scramble. We wanted a platform where school is not a separate app bolted on later, but part of the same rhythm as the rest of the house: the morning chores, the meals, the calendar, the quiet hours.

So in My Domi, a lesson plan sits on the same Today screen as the dishes. Attendance is a tap, and the records you will need later keep themselves. Points from finished schoolwork land in the same jar as points from finished chores, because to a child it is all one thing: the work of the day, done well, in a house that noticed. We are building the school we want to run in a few years, and we are building it with the parents who are running theirs right now.

Managing distraction on modern devices

The hardest part of a modern home is not the mess. It is the pull. Phones, tablets and computers are built by very smart people to be hard to put down, and no amount of willpower at seven in the evening is a match for that. We did not want surveillance and we did not want a fight. We wanted boundaries that the whole family understands and that the devices themselves respect.

That is what Screen Time in My Domi is: quiet hours that actually go quiet, focus profiles for homework and bedtime, a physical lock card that sits on the counter, and a polite way for a child to ask for more time that a parent can answer from anywhere. Screens can be earned back by finishing the day's chores. Parents can lock their own devices too, because we are not above the pull either. It works on a child's iPhone, in a browser, and on the family computer, and it is decided by you, not by the device.

Staying on top of the house without living in an app

The rest of My Domi is the plain work of running a home, made light. Open it in the morning and see what matters: who has what to do, what is for dinner, where everyone needs to be. Save a recipe from anywhere and it fills the grocery list, sorted by aisle, shared with whoever is at the store. Chores roll over when they are missed and pay out points when they are done. The calendar is one calendar. The family board holds the carpool change and the memory verse.

None of this is meant to be impressive. It is meant to disappear. The best week with My Domi is one where you barely open it, because the house already knows what it is doing, and the people in it have their evenings back.

Four things we will not change

Thank you for reading this far

If any of this sounds like your home, we built this for you. Set it up in a few minutes, invite the family when you are ready, and tell us what would make it better. We read every message.

Ashton Kuehne, for the Kuehne family