Show Notes
Summer's coming, and if your parenting plan has a vague vacation clause, the same fights you had last year are already loading. Who asks first. How long you can be gone. Whether your ex gets “makeup time.” Whether you owe them an itinerary down to the restaurant. None of it should be a fight, and all of it becomes one when the plan doesn't spell it out. This week I'm walking through the six vacation fights I see over and over, and the exact clauses that shut each one down before it starts. First, the question nobody asks: does vacation even have to be during summer? I don't think so. Summer-only is predictable, but it's also peak pricing and packed destinations. Year-round vacation language gives you flexibility, cheaper travel, and room for the life you're building, not the one you're surviving right now. Stop living small inside your parenting plan. Ask for the vacation time your future self will want, not what this year's budget says you can use. Then the fights. “I asked first” is not a clause. I'll show you why notice-based language, 30 or 60 days, beats first-come-first-served and April 1st deadlines. How long can you be gone? That's a custom build, because three consecutive weeks is ridiculous to your coworker Stacy and completely necessary if your family lives across an ocean. Can vacation get tacked onto existing parenting time? It can if your plan doesn't say otherwise, and that's how your ex turns seven vacation days into three weekends in a row. Do you owe time back? No. Vacations supersede visitation, and time lost is not regained. Makeup time just gets muddy, and high-conflict people will stack it into a second vacation they never had to call one. And the two information fights: not enough, and too much. I saw a plan recently that required a parent to ask permission and wait 10 days for their ex to approve a vacation. Gross. Your plan should be written so well that you're informing, not asking. Destination, dates, emergency contact, flight info. That's it. And on the flip side, if your ex wants the full itinerary, every restaurant, every activity, daily phone calls? No. Safety information matters. Control does not.
If your vacation clause is one vague sentence, this is the episode to fix it before June does it for you. 👉 Start with the Parenting Plan Written For You here
Here's What You Can Actually Take Away:
Vacation Doesn't Have To Mean Summer - Year-round vacation language is cheaper, more flexible, and built for the life you're growing into, not just this year's budget.
Plan For The Grander Life - Ask for more vacation time than you think you need right now. It's easier to have it and not use it than to wish you'd asked.
“I Asked First” Is Not a Clause - Notice-based language (30 or 60 days) beats first-come-first-served, because nobody knows in April what August looks like.
Vacation Length Is a Custom Build - How many vacations, how many weeks, consecutive or not. Your family's situation decides, not someone else's judgment.
Watch The Tack-On Move - Without clear start-date language, seven vacation days plus surrounding weekends becomes three weekends in a row for your ex.
No Makeup Time - Vacations supersede visitation, and time lost is not regained. Makeup time gets muddy, and high-conflict people stack it into a bonus vacation.
Inform. Don't Ask. - You should never need your ex's permission to take your kids on vacation. Destination, dates, emergency contact, flight info. Done.
Safety Information Matters. Control Does Not. - Your ex isn't entitled to your itinerary, your restaurant choices, or daily check-in calls.
The Truth Bombs
“Stop living small inside your parenting plan. Plan for the grander life.”
““I asked first” is a playground rule, not a vacation clause.”
“Your ex just turned seven vacation days into three weekends in a row. Because your plan let them.”
“Vacations supersede visitation. Time lost is not regained. Write it down.”
“You're informing your ex about your vacation. You
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Larry handed you a parenting plan with a list of holidays, a list of breaks, and a line about vacations, and called it finished. He never told you which one wins when two of them land on the same day. And your high-conflict ex found that gap before the ink was even dry. This week I'm breaking down the one paragraph missing from almost every parenting plan on earth: the order of priority. Because a list of holidays, breaks, and vacations with no hierarchy isn't a plan. It's an invitation for a high-conflict parent to clean house and take from you every single time.
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