Show Notes
The hardest part of co-parenting isn't always what your ex says. Sometimes it's that they say nothing at all. They read it. They sit on it. They answer a completely different question, or they ask you one back while dodging yours entirely. And you freeze. You're not allowed to make a unilateral decision, so you wait. Meanwhile the school needs the form back Thursday, the coach needs an answer by tomorrow, and your kid keeps asking whether they can sign up for floor hockey. Our kids end up paying for another adult's decision to ignore us.
This week I'm teaching you one of my favorite tools for exactly this, and I'm going to be honest with you: a lot of you are doing it wrong from the very first message.
We start with BIFF. Brief, informative, and what I call factual and firm. No emotions. No history lesson. Some of you are long-winded over-explainers, and you're handing a high-conflict person way too much to work with. Then: everything in writing. No more driveway conversations. Use email or a parenting app, not texting, not WhatsApp, not Snapchat. I'll share two setups I love, including a separate email address used only for co-parenting and a cheap second phone one woman set up for about ten dollars a month, purely as a buffer. Then clear subject lines and one subject per message. If you have five questions, that's five separate messages. Stop writing in paragraph form. Bullet points. Because your ex isn't reading a wall of text, and neither is the judge who ends up with those messages later. Then the part that changes everything. Stop asking “what do you think.” You already know what a high-conflict person thinks about you. Give two options instead. Never three, they can't handle three. Then give a real deadline, an actual date and time, not “ASAP” or “whenever you get a chance.” And then the magic: state exactly what happens if they don't respond. “If I don't hear from you by Thursday the 25th at noon, I'll take Jack to the appointment and you can pick him up after school like normal.” Now everybody knows what's happening. They can respond or not respond. Either way, life keeps moving. I'm also covering the pushback you'll hear, “that's a unilateral decision,” and exactly why it isn't. Plus JADE, which is the habit most of you need to break: stop justifying, arguing, defending, and explaining. Here's the part that matters most though. Every single thing in this episode is a workaround for a parenting plan that never should have left this open. A well-built plan already answers who takes the kids to non-emergency appointments, what the response window is, and what the communication method is. The best fix isn't a better message. It's not having to send it.
👉 Let my team build the long-distance plan for you
Here's What You Can Actually Take Away:
Ghosting Is a Strategy, Not an Oversight - Silence keeps you frozen and keeps them in control. Treat it as the pattern it is.
Use BIFF Every Time - Brief, informative, factual, firm. No emotion, no history lesson, no oversharing.
Everything Goes In Writing - Email or a parenting app. Driveway conversations and texting don't document.
One Subject Per Message - Five questions means five messages. Searchable subject lines and bullet points, never paragraphs.
Give Options, Not Open Questions - “What do you think” gets you nothing. Option one, option two. Never three.
Set a Real Deadline - A date and a time. Not ASAP, not soon, not whenever they get around to it.
State the Default - Say exactly what you'll do if they don't respond. This is the piece almost everyone leaves out.
Stop JADE-ing - Justifying, arguing, defending, and explaining all hand a high-conflict person more material.
The Real Fix Is In the Plan - Response windows, communication method, and who handles non-emergency appointments should already be written down.
The Truth Bombs
“The problem isn't what your ex said. It's that they read it and decided to sit on it.” “Our kids are paying the price because anothe
More from The Ugly Truth of Divorce
Early in a separation, almost every parent has the same reaction: I don't want my ex taking my kids out of state. That fear is normal. It's also the fear that gets parents to sign restrictions they spend the next decade regretting. This week I'm answering the question directly, and then I'm flipping it. Because every limit you put on your ex lands right back on you.
Your parenting plan was written assuming you'd both stay put. Life doesn't care what you assumed. A dating app match, a cheaper cost of living, a job offer three states away, and suddenly the plan built for two local parents doesn't fit the family it's supposed to protect. This week I'm walking through what actually needs to be in your parenting plan before someone relocates, not after. Start with the distance rule. Most plans use something like 30 miles or 30 minutes. Move inside that line, and the whole plan stays exactly the same: same visitation, same holidays, same everything. Move past it, and the plan should trigger a rebuild, not a scramble. Your plan should also answer whether the parent can move out of state at all, what notice they owe you, whether court approval is required, and whether the move triggers an automatic review. Then comes the real question: is this an adjusted schedule, or a full long-distance parenting plan? If pickups, school drop-off, and weekday dinners aren't realistic anymore, you're building a completely different structure, one built on big chunks of time instead of weekly visits. Spring break, summer, fall break, winter break, these start shifting to the parent who moved, while the local parent keeps school-year stability. I'm also covering the thing most attorneys forget: a long-distance parent should still be able to fly in and watch a game, a recital, a school function, without it eating into their actual parenting time. And holidays need a full rework, because a long-distance parent is going to miss the ones tied to a single day, Mother's Day, Father's Day, Halloween, and gain more of the ones tied to a longer break, Thanksgiving, Christmas, summer. We're also getting into who makes the day-to-day decisions now, how child support recalculates when the schedule changes, who pays for travel and what happens when a flight gets canceled, how teenagers change the long-distance equation, what happens when a kid gets sick right before a trip, and what a reasonable communication schedule actually looks like when “we'll figure it out” isn't good enough anymore. The goal isn't to force the old plan to work. It's to build one that matches the life you actually have now.
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.
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.
Your attorney lied to your damn face. The divorce didn't fix anything. It just restructured the conflict and handed it back to you with new packaging. Larry told me once the ink dried, the chaos would stop. It didn't. It got worse. Because court orders don't change behaviors. They just give your ex a new arena to perform in. And your "fresh start"? Four months later it gets tested in ways Larry never warned you about because Larry doesn't fucking live this. This week I'm laying out the seven brutal realities of post-divorce life with a high-conflict ex. The conflict doesn't end. It just moves into two houses. All the lack of respect, the miscommunication, the laziness, the resentment? Still there. Just in two zip codes now. And your parenting plan? The minute the ink dries, your ex is finding every loophole Larry phoned in. Mine cracked at four months. Yours might crack the same damn day. I'm also coming for the lie about "no more contact." The high-conflict person is one of two ways post-divorce: the ghost who weaponizes silence, or the over-inserter who comes for you when you cross the damn street in the wrong socks. That was my real life. If you know, you know. Plus the emotional triggers. They don't disappear. The text. The email. The manila envelope in the snail mail. I had no boundary. I'd open it, read it, spiral, and then show up dysregulated for my kids. You have to heal it. Not white-knuckle through it. I'm getting into your kids too. They don't adapt the way Larry promised. Two bedrooms. Two pillows. Two bedtime routines. The inconsistencies wreck them. The hardest one. Your frantic ass is your kid's whole problem. I was so busy trying to control my ex's chaos house from across town that I missed what my kid needed at MY house. Calm. Routine. A parent whose shoulders weren't up by her ears. When I dropped trying to control his house and became the anchor at mine, my kids changed overnight. If your divorce is final and the storm didn't stop, this is the damn episode. And when you're done listening, do the damn work. The Parenting Plan Masterclass is the full playbook — three hours of teaching, a workbook, and every clause your post-divorce life needs to stop being run by Larry's vague writing and your ex's loopholes. 👉 Grab the Parenting Plan Masterclass + Playbook here