Division of Labor No. 17: A Nonprofit Consultant and a Freelance Designer Raising 2 Small Kids in Vermont

I’m having one of those weeks where I’m a bit overwhelmed by all the loose ends dangling around me. I’m wrapping up my full-time freelance gig, alongside a really big project I’ve been managing for the PTA at my son’s school. (I have feelings about my year on the PTA, which I may share at some point.) And I’m also trying to find some time to start planning for The Purse for the second half of 2025. Oh, and my apartment is a mess. We’ve reached the point where stuff is bursting out of every drawer and closet, and I’m in desperate need of a declutter.

The unfinished projects coupled with the messy apartment is kicking my anxiety into high gear. I’m trying to do my best to just take one thing at a time, one day at a time (sometimes even one hour at a time). How do you manage anxiety around project endings?

I love today’s Division of Labor because the family is facing its own busy sprint as they prepare to go on vacation. I find the struggle to be so relatable. I always set slightly unrealistic expectations of just how much I can get done before we go away, and I inevitably throw one crazy nonessential project on the to-do list. I can’t be the only one!

Anyway, enough about my endless to-do lists (because honestly, what else is new?), and on to today’s Division of Labor, featuring Abbey Harlow, a part-time nonprofit consultant, and her husband, Justin Jankus, a freelance designer and photographer. They are raising two small kids in Vermont (with plans to start hybrid homeschooling this fall). And while Abbey is intentional about how much work she takes on so she can spend more time with her kids, there’s no denying that her days are very full!

I’ll let Abbey and Justin take it from here!

Name: Abbey Harlow
Age: 38
Spouse’s Name: Justin Jankus
Spouse’s Age: 38
Relationship Status: Married
Number of children and their ages: Lucy (5) and Michael (2)

Your job and how many hours you work per week: I run my own consulting business supporting small nonprofits with fundraising, strategy, and communications. I work part-time—usually around 15–20 hours a week—and that’s by design. I’m able to work these hours thanks to a lot of support. Both my mom and Justin’s parents live right around the corner and help with childcare several times a week. We also bought our home before the housing market exploded in Vermont, and we have a tenant in an attached apartment who helps offset the cost. I’m definitely aware of the privileges that make this setup possible, and I’ve tried to build a life that makes room for family, flexibility, and small daily joys.

Your spouse/partner’s job and how many hours they work per week: My partner, Justin, is a freelance web designer, photographer, and graphic designer. He works with mission-aligned businesses and organizations, and his schedule flexes depending on his current projects.

Type of childcare you use: Lucy is in pre-K four mornings a week and will start hybrid homeschooling in the fall. Michael will begin pre-K this fall. Our families take the kids 12 hours a week, and we get them the rest of the time! We shape our work hours around the rhythms of family life. It’s a mix of planning and improvising, but it gives us space to spend a lot of time outdoors, visit libraries across south-central Vermont, go on creemee tasting adventures (IYKYK), and travel together as a family. It’s not always smooth, but we feel lucky to shape our days around the kind of life we’re trying to build—and we’re always working on the flow as we go.

How do you split up household responsibilities: We each have our strengths, and over time, we’ve figured out a rhythm that plays to them. Justin handles most of the day-to-day physical tasks—garden work, house projects, dishes, laundry, wrangling children into their seasonal gear—while I take the lead on finances, long-term planning, groceries, and keeping track of what needs to get done. I tend to name the big picture; he’s great at bringing it to life. We split up taking the kids to activities like rock climbing, story time, etc.

Right now, Justin has a bit more breathing room between client projects, which lines up well with the work of getting the vegetable garden planted and taking on more at home. We’ve found that seasonality plays a big role in how things flow.

We try to stay out of the weeds of day-to-day decision-making by doing annual and quarterly planning sessions where we map out goals for different areas of life. It gives us something to come back to when things get chaotic. I also put together a rough flow for the next day each evening—it helps me stay grounded in what’s actually possible and keeps me from overcommitting. I really hate feeling harried, so I’ve learned to be pretty ruthless about cutting things that don’t fit or align. It’s an ongoing balance—I love the prize-student feeling of checking things off a list, but I’ve also learned that space and flexibility matter just as much.

What labor do you outsource? We outsource a few key things that make our weeks run more smoothly. We order groceries online and do curbside pickup, we have someone clean eight hours a month, and our kids spend three afternoons a week with their grandparents. We also have someone mow our lawn—and honestly, that would be the last thing we’d ever cut from the budget. I still have flashbacks to when it was my tween chore, and I’d drag it out over an entire day because I was so bored I kept finding excuses to stop and do anything else.

How did you decide who does what: Writing everything down is a big help—just seeing the full list makes it easier to talk through what needs to happen and who’s taking what. We check in most evenings about what the next day looks like and what each of us needs, and that usually helps us divide things up in a way that feels fair. We also try to play to our strengths and preferences as much as possible.

Can you share one “parenting hack” that’s worked for your family: Something that’s worked for us is not worrying too much about what other people are doing. It’s something I have to keep relearning, but it makes such a difference. For example, it took me a while to feel comfortable saying out loud that we’re planning to hybrid homeschool Lucy this fall. But once I started sharing it, I was delightfully surprised by how many people in our community said, “Oh, we’ve been thinking about that, too.” It was a good reminder that doing what works for your family—even if it looks different—can make space for others to do the same.

Do you feel like it’s a fair division of labor? I think we’re mostly in a good place. I carry many of the long-term responsibilities, and Justin handles a lot of the daily tasks and physical work around the house. We’re both always adjusting to make things feel as fair and sustainable as we can.

Anything else you’d like to share? Something I keep coming back to—in work and in life—is that “enough” is a powerful goal. We are all taught to keep hustling, keep climbing, keep monetizing our hobbies. When do we get to stop and recognize that this is the moment, this is the goal, this is our only time. As corny as it sounds, I reflect on the Mary Oliver quote almost daily: “What will you do with your one wild and precious life?” It helps me stay aligned with the kind of life I’m trying to build—one with room for caregiving, creative work, and slowness.

That same idea carries into my work with nonprofits. I spend a lot of time with small, mission-driven organizations. Many of them are navigating real crises right now, especially with the sudden and unlawful disruption in federal funding. The pressure to do more with less isn’t just a talking point: It’s become their daily reality. Organizations that are feeding families, preserving public lands, strengthening democracy through libraries and local journalism, or literally saving lives are being asked to carry on their work without funding they were already granted, already budgeting against, and, in some cases, already spending.

It’s exhausting. And it’s wrong. But these are the people I work with, and I try to help them hold onto the values that brought them to this work in the first place. To make space for clarity and sustainability, even under pressure.

Abbey and Justin shared a recent weekday.

6:30 a.m.

Abbey: I wake up to my alarm, surprisingly not groggy, even though I didn’t fall asleep until after 1:00 a.m. Both kids made their way into our bed overnight, and I enjoy the cuddles for a few minutes before getting up. This morning, we’re taking Michael to a pre-K open house, and Lucy is thrilled to give him the full big-sister rundown of what to expect. She doesn’t have school today because of this open house—something I only remembered last night. Whoops! If I don’t write it down anywhere, it doesn’t exist.

7:00 a.m.

Abbey: I get Michael dressed and ready, then do the same for myself.

Justin: I pull together clothes, breakfasts, and a snack for Michael to take with him later. Then I get Lucy ready, feed the dog, and get myself dressed.

8:00 a.m.

Abbey: Off to the open house at Michael’s future preschool. He’s very excited—mostly because they have lots of toy cars that he can memorize the make/model of—and we drop off his paperwork when we arrive. He’s not so sure about the hearing and vision test, but Lucy is eager to jump in and show him the ropes. She even solemnly tells one of the nurses that Michael likes to do what she does, so if she starts walking to the office for her test, he’ll definitely follow.

9:00 a.m.

Abbey: After the open house, Michael and I head off to Music Together, which is about an hour from home. It’s a beautiful drive, and we really love the class—it’s run by an organization I work with, which makes it feel even more special to be there. I’m glad for the flexibility to make time for things like this on a weekday.

I still haven’t had any coffee. With a full afternoon of meetings ahead, I’m hoping I can grab my customary cup and a half on my way to the music class before the day really takes off. Being without coffee makes me feel like a caricature of a frazzled mother, and I don’t care for it.

9:30 a.m.

Justin: Lucy and I have breakfast together, then I check my email and start getting things ready to transplant the squash and broccoli seedlings into the garden. I bring the laundry downstairs and get a load going while we prep—windows open, everything smelling like spring.

10:30 a.m.

Abbey: Michael falls asleep on the way to class, and I decide we can play hooky. I take the scenic route home past Lake Bomoseen, listening to my audiobook, Witchcraft for Wayward Girls. It’s a quiet and beautiful drive.

11:00 a.m.

Justin: I switch over the first load of laundry and get started on transplanting. Lucy sets herself up in one of our camp chairs outside, listening to her Yoto and happily gnawing on a rhubarb stalk—one of her favorite springtime snacks.

12:00 p.m.

Abbey: I’m back home, and Justin and I take turns pushing the kids on the swings in our backyard playhouse while the other grabs coffee (finally! ack!) or keeps working on transplanting. The kids insist on being pushed to alarmingly high heights—laughing, shrieking, demanding “Higher!”—and we oblige, sort of. It’s a beautiful day—sunny, breezy, just warm enough—and it feels really good to be outside together, each doing a bit of what we need.

Justin: We finish up the transplanting for the day and get the kids’ lunch: mac and cheese, bananas, and for Mikey, a quarter of a bagel with cream cheese, along with more cream cheese and a handful of Goldfish on the side. One of his favorite things is dipping crackers in whipped cream cheese. There’s protein there, I tell myself.

12:30 p.m.

Abbey: I sit and read with the kids while they eat lunch outside—Mapping Penny’s World and a few pages from Ranger Rick Cubs. Reading aloud is everything I hoped it would be before becoming a parent, and I hope they still request it when they’re 30. Lucy got a new bathing suit today and has decided she’ll be wearing it to Nana’s this afternoon, paired with her red velvet shoes with a bow. She always has a vision.

1:00 p.m.

Abbey: The kids are dropped off, and I shift into work. I have a meeting with a potential new Vermont client who’s looking for support on a capital campaign. I really enjoy conversations with nonprofit organizations, and I try to listen closely so I can offer something that actually fits what they’re asking for.

This week feels fuller than usual—all the deadlines seem to be coming in at once. We’re also getting ready for vacation next week and trying to get the garden fully planted before we go.

Justin: I drop the kids off at the grandparents for the afternoon. I wolf down some leftover mac and cheese the kids left behind, then get ready to plant the rest of the squash and start to transplant the tomatoes to the garden—but not before a quick scroll and a bit of doodling on my phone.

1:30 p.m.

Abbey: After my meeting, I head outside to work for the next 45 minutes and make myself the last bagel from Mother’s Day—toasted with chive cream cheese and a heavy-handed sprinkle of Trader Joe’s Everything But the Bagel seasoning. While I sit at the table in the sun, I work on summarizing observations for a statewide strategic planning client. We just wrapped their listening phase, and these summaries will help shape what comes next for them.

2:30 p.m.

Abbey: Next up is a meeting with a potential client who’s building a community center in a midsize New England town. They’re looking to move out of the start-up phase and are seeking coaching to help build stronger systems and long-term sustainability. I love getting to support organizations at this stage—when the vision is clear but the structure still needs shaping.

In between meetings, I work on a grant I’m writing for a Vermont organization and make my way through email—something I try to only wade into once a day. Keeping email from creeping into every corner of my workday makes a big difference in focus.

4:00 p.m.

Abbey: I have a virtual coaching session with an arts organization that works nationally. We talk through their upcoming spring fundraiser and start outlining the final materials we’ll create before wrapping up our time together—a simple, usable fundraising plan they can carry forward on their own.

Justin: I head out to pick up the kids from their respective grandparents, and after we get home, I unload the dishwasher and start some pinto beans in the Instant Pot for dinner. We use it several times a week, and I can’t believe I ever doubted its usefulness. It’s earned its spot on top of our crowded fridge.

4:30 p.m.

Abbey: My last meeting wraps up a bit early, so I take the extra time to plan for tomorrow. I’m definitely running out of steam. I put a Lucius song on repeat (their cover of Bob Dylan’s “When the Night Comes Falling From the Sky”). Listening to one song or album over and over has always helped me focus and settle my brain.

5:00 p.m.

Abbey: We take the kids to visit a friend who has three little kids and a farm—including some newly arrived baby goats. We figure the goats will be the main event, but the kids are far more interested in investigating worms and muddy spots in the stream. It’s a beautiful day, and pulling them away at the end is no small feat. We drive off with both kids crying in the backseat, frustrated that the visit ended before they were ready. It’s hard to not be able to make all your own decisions!

6:30 p.m.

Justin: We get home, and I throw together dinner for the kids—spaghetti, pinto beans, and a banana. I tackle the remaining dishes while Michael plays at the front door with his cars. At some point, I find a tick on me, which is a pretty much daily occurrence this time of year. It’s gross.

7:00 p.m.

Abbey: I read to Lucy—a seek-and-find book set in the Metropolitan Museum of Art—then pop back upstairs to do a bit more work while the kids eat dinner and get ready for bed with Justin. This is definitely not my norm; I usually try to have a hard stop before dinner. But with vacation coming up next week and a few deadlines stacked up, I make an exception. I spend another half hour working on the grant for my client.

8:00 p.m.

Abbey: I read Lucy a book (Detective Bean and the Case of the Missing Hat) and stay with her until she falls asleep, listening to my audiobook in the dark.

Justin: I put Michael to bed quickly and then make dinner for me and Abbey.

8:30 p.m.

Abbey: Justin and I have pinto bean, cheese, and sour cream tacos while starting season two of Poker Face. After dinner, he spends some time getting things in order to kick off a new project while I do a bit more work. I finish up the strategic planning summary and sketch out a plan for tomorrow. It’s not my ideal evening routine, but it helps me feel a little more settled heading into another full day.

11:00 p.m.

Abbey: I head up to bed and read a few pages of the new Karen Russell novel before falling into an incredibly deep sleep

Justin: I tidy up a bit then head up to bed as well.

Please comment with kindness!

Thank you, Abbey and Justin! Interested in sharing your Division of Labor? Fill out the form here!

Random Extras:

• Melinda Wenner Moyer has a new book out (Hello, Cruel World: Raising Terrific Kids in Terrifying Times), and she’s joining SheKnows editor-in-chief Erika Janes for a cool book event this Thursday, May 29, from 6:00 to 7:30 p.m. in Manhattan. And it’s free! You should go! More info here!

• There’s still a few tickets left for the 92nd Street Y event I’m doing with Katie Gatti Tassin on Wednesday, June 11, to discuss her new book, Rich Girl Nation. If you’re not in NYC, there’s an option to attend virtually. Get tickets here!

• Don’t miss your chance to take advantage of this month’s paid subscriber sweepstakes! One lucky reader will win a $25 gift certificate to the bookstore of their choice, one $25 gift certificate to the coffee shop of their choice, and a $25 donation to the charity of their choice. I’ll also be donating 20% of all new paid subscriptions during the month of May to Moms Demand Action.1