The Divorce Document That Finally Made Us Equal Parents

It’s Easter and I’m at my ex-husband’s house to celebrate. Since it’s his week with the kids, he’s in charge of the festivities. There’s not a bunny decoration in sight. And instead of serving a big traditional ham dinner on my aunt’s special china, we’re eating simple tacos to celebrate. Instead of dyeing traditional eggs like I prefer doing, he got the plastic ones with candy inside.

Does he do things how I do them at my house? Absolutely not. But you know what? Our kids had a great time, we spent time all together, and actually managed to have fun. And on top of that — and this is something my married self could not have imagined – I didn’t have to lift a finger. I got to sleep in, be present with my kids, and cuddle with them and watch a movie while their dad cleaned up the kitchen.

While I was lying on the couch under a blanket with my kids watching The Princess Bride, I wondered about the last time I had been able to rest on a holiday. It was definitely when I was a little kid. And now, every other holiday looks like this for me, and it was all thanks to a revelatory little document called the parenting plan.

If you file for divorce when you have kids, at least in my state, you're required to fill it out together, forcing you and your soon-to-be ex to plan out the care of your children. The parenting plan was the thing that made my partner step up and take on 50% of the household and childcare responsibilities. And it took the same parenting plan for me to realize that if I really wanted to lift my mental load and lighten my invisible labor, I needed to let go of control.

In the course of filling out this document, and having the difficult but productive conversations that it required, it occurred to me that this was an exercise that probably would have been useful to us when we were married.

Would he do everything just like me? Not nearly. But was that a bad thing? Turns out, not at all.

The story of the end of our marriage is a familiar one: We had a strong and happy partnership before we had kids. But as soon as there were babies to take care of, a huge shift happened. We had the same level of education and worked in the same field, but he made more money (thanks, wage gap!) and since I was the one physically having the babies, I downshifted my career to work part time and stay home with our children. My office turned into the kids’ room. I did cleaning, laundry, night wakings and bedtimes (I was exclusively nursing, after all!). By the time four years of nursing were over, our division of labor was so ingrained, nothing really changed.

I started to get resentful about all of the above, and he was resentful about working full-time. You know the rest: I got too tired and rundown to take care of myself, and didn’t give him nearly as much attention as I used to. He started having way more fun with people who had the time and energy for fun. When we tried to rebalance tasks at home, we couldn’t figure out how to do it so that both of us were even remotely happy. Add in a pandemic, and before you knew it, our 14-year relationship was on the rocks and we were looking at apartment listings and printing divorce paperwork off a government website.

After years of struggle and tension, it was that paperwork that finally got us to the place we needed to be. Our romantic relationship would never recover, but the parenting plan we downloaded finally enabled us to find an equitable co-parenting partnership.

So much so that if you’re struggling in your marriage in the way we were struggling, would it hurt to fill the Parenting Plan document out just to see what happens? It would not. There’s something about the fact that we had to do it, in this granular way, that makes you commit to a plan and move forward.

First, the plan has you clearly outline, by the day, who will be the default parent when. We have 50/50 custody and trade weeks — anything that happens during my week is my responsibility, and vice versa.

This meant that, for the first time, my husband had to do 50% of the meals, 50% of the dishes, and 50% of the laundry (and so on). And do you know what? He’s done a totally great job of it. Was it painful at times to let him learn, watch him do things wrong, and accept that he’s going to do things his own way? Absolutely. But it’s also been absolutely worth the parenting equity that came from it.

Maybe if we all filled out the divorce paperwork, there would be fewer divorces and more Easter tacos.

The parenting plan also prompts couples to discuss a number of big issues all at once and then clarify and document your stance on them. This meant we had to discuss if we’d allow our kids to get a tattoo, join the military, or get married young. We had to talk through vaccines and school attendance and religion. While we had vague thoughts and feelings about the topics, we’d never been forced to articulate them before – just as the household and childcare responsibilities had just sort of happened without much forethought. Once it was done, we knew exactly where we stood. We got so much long-term arguing out of the way all at once.

The plan also parses out money issues — who is responsible for what and why that is fair. We had to sit down and agree on this fair and working plan together, and once it was done, our resentment finally began to fade.

The plan also lists holidays and requests you have a plan for each. We agreed to split them equally, and at that moment, I knew he would soon learn just how much effort goes into days like Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter.

Would he do everything just like me? Not nearly. But was that a bad thing? Turns out, not at all.

Parents do a lot of things to prepare for bringing kids into the world. We carefully fill their nursery, read parenting books, and baby proof our homes. What if we also sat down with our partners and really — and I mean really — created a parenting plan that was detailed, fair, and written in black and white? One that both people agreed upon and one that set everyone up for success? One that split the mental load and the long nights? One that gave each person permission to learn and parent in their own way?

Maybe if we all filled out the divorce paperwork, there would be fewer divorces and more Easter tacos.