Show Notes
If your parenting plan has vague language in it, your attorney just handed your high-conflict ex a loaded gun and charged you for the bullets. Vague is not the same as covered. Anything that can be interpreted WILL be interpreted in whatever way screws you over the most that day. In Episode 16, I'm calling out the catch-all clauses attorneys love to bury in parenting plans that sound great in a conference room and blow up completely in real life. The language that makes you feel protected when you sign it and makes your ex's eyes light up the moment they realize how much room they have to work with. Here's what pisses me off about this: two people who couldn't agree on anything during the marriage, blew through mediation, and spent days in court with a room full of witnesses and professionals. Someone looked at that situation, saw exactly who these two people were, and still handed them a legal document that only functions if they cooperate. That's not a plan. That's a setup. And every single time it breaks down, you're back on the phone with your attorney trying to get someone to explain what your own document means. Every call costs money. Every argument that could have been avoided with one specific sentence in your plan is now an invoice. The people writing these plans know what they're doing. Whether it's intentional or just lazy, the result is the same: you stay stuck, you stay in conflict, and you keep paying. I had this exact plan. I lived this exact nightmare. I was the person who kept thinking if I just tried harder, showed up better, stayed more reasonable, eventually my ex would meet me there. They didn't. And the plan we had gave both of us endless room to keep the fight going for years. The only people who came out ahead were the ones billing by the hour. Get specific. Lock in the decisions now. All of them. Because a plan full of wiggle room is just handing your ex a weapon and calling it a custody agreement. Your kids deserve better than that. And honestly, so do you.
Here’s What You Can Actually Take Away:
Vague Language Is a Weapon: In a high-conflict co-parenting situation, any clause that can be interpreted multiple ways will be interpreted in whatever way benefits your ex that day.
Feel-Good Plans Don't Survive First Contact With a High-Conflict Ex: A parenting plan that reads beautifully and falls apart in practice is not a good plan. It's a liability.
Specificity Is the Only Real Protection: The more decisions your plan makes upfront, the less you have to fight about later. Dates, times, names, processes, all of it should be written down.
Going Back to Your Attorney to Define Your Own Plan Is a Failure of the Plan: Paying someone to explain what your legal document means means the document didn't do its job.
High-Conflict People Will Not Rise to the Occasion: Stop designing your plan around the hope that your ex will eventually do the right thing. Design it around the reality of who they actually are.
You Deserved a Plan That Actually Works: Not one that made your attorney feel good about wrapping things up and left you holding the mess.
The Truth Bombs
"A parenting plan that sounds good on paper and falls apart in real life isn't a plan. It's a setup."
"Two people who couldn't agree on anything during a marriage, during mediation, or in eight days of court are not going to magically agree on what a vague clause means. Stop writing plans that require them to."
"Every time I had to call my attorney to figure out what my own parenting plan meant, that plan failed me. Full stop."
"Your ex will find every single inch of wiggle room in that document and drive a truck through it. That's not a prediction. That's a pattern."
"The goal of your parenting plan should be to make as many decisions as possible right now so you never have to make them again with someone who hates you."
"I kept trying harder, showing up better, being more reasonable. They didn't change. The plan just gave us more to fight
More from The Ugly Truth of Divorce
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.
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.