When the Issue Isn’t the Issue: How High-Conflict Co-Parents Use Leverage

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I recently shared on Instagram that last spring, my ex withdrew consent for the kids to continue playing soccer. The response to that post told me a lot, not just about co-parenting dynamics, but about how many people still misunderstand what high-conflict situations actually look like behind closed doors.

Let me start here.

His decision had nothing to do with the kids.

It was not about whether soccer was good for them. It was not about whether they enjoyed it. It was not about cost, because I was paying for the entire season. It was not about logistics, because we were with the same club we had already used and, at the time, I was coaching my oldest girls’ team. That meant I had significant control over practice times, tournament selections, weather-related schedule changes, and the general moving parts that usually create headaches for families. It was not about scheduling either. The commitment was only two days a week, which was well in line with what they had done in prior years. It was not some dramatic increase in obligations or some unreasonable ask.

In fact, we had gotten lucky. Two of my oldest children, who were nine and ten at the time, were able to be placed on the same team, and I was coaching them. Any parent with multiple children in activities knows what a gift that is. It meant two practice locations instead of three, two practice schedules instead of three, two game calendars instead of three, and far less chaos for everyone involved.

None of that mattered.

The real reason he withdrew consent was because he was upset with me. We had ongoing conflict that had started the fall before, around my birthday in October, after I pushed back on a demand he had made. The conflict and the tension carried forward for months. Then suddenly, when spring arrived, soccer became the issue.

But soccer was never the issue.

What surprised me most was what happened after I posted about it. I had people in my inbox and direct messages telling me that I was the one in the wrong for registering the kids as a carryover from the season before. They said I should have gone to him first, asked permission, and waited for approval before signing them up. The implication was that I had made some improper unilateral decision and that I, somehow, was the problem.

I wanted to push back hard. I wanted to say, respectfully, if you had any idea what I have been dealing with, you would understand this situation very differently.

But that reaction helped me realize something important: many people still view co-parenting through the lens of two reasonable, child-centered adults acting in good faith. If that is the lens you are using, of course certain things seem simple. Of course it sounds obvious to just ask, discuss it, and work it out.

That is not the reality of high-conflict co-parenting.

When one parent uses ordinary parenting decisions as tools for control, punishment, leverage, or continued conflict, the entire framework changes. What looks reasonable from the outside often becomes impossible on the inside.

So rather than simply tell you that, let me show you.

Because this is where people miss the plot entirely.

Soccer was not new to my children. It was not some random activity I signed them up for on a whim. At the time all of this happened, the kids were ten, nine, six, and four. The two oldest, who were the most directly impacted by this sudden withdrawal of consent, had been playing soccer since they were five and six years old, back in preschool and kindergarten. By then, they were in third and fourth grade. Soccer had been a normal, established part of their lives for years.

They had also been with the same soccer association for three years already. The summer before all of this unfolded, they were each on separate traveling teams within that same association. They completed the season, and when tryouts came around for the following year, there was no controversy. He knew about the tryouts. He agreed to the tryouts. He took the kids to the tryouts.

That matters.

Because people love to act like these situations happen in a vacuum, as though one parent woke up one day and made some rogue parenting decision. That is not what happened here. These kids had a history in the sport, a history with the club, and both parents had participated in that process all the way through tryouts for the upcoming season.

Then my birthday rolled around. My birthday is on Halloween, and around that time we got into a disagreement that spilled into written conflict through email. It carried into November and never really got resolved. He was angry with me, deeply invested in staying angry with me, and unwilling to move on.

What followed is something many women in high-conflict dynamics will recognize immediately.

The original issue stopped mattering. The new issue became punishment.

From October into November, then December, then January, and eventually into the spring season itself, the message was clear: if I did not respond to him in the way he wanted, if I did not engage the way he expected, if I did not bend where he wanted me to bend, then he would not bring the kids to soccer because he “no longer consented.”

Never mind that he had already consented.

He had taken them to tryouts. He knew they were returning to the same club they had been with for years. He knew they had been placed on teams. He knew I was coaching. He knew the season was already in motion.

But once he was upset with me, soccer became leverage.

And to understand why he chose that lever, you have to understand something about me: I love soccer. I grew up playing. I played in college at the Division III level. I have coached for years. I have played in adult leagues. I genuinely believe sports can be an incredible gift for kids. They build confidence, friendships, discipline, resilience, and joy.

He knew that.

He knew soccer mattered to me, and he assumed that if he threatened the kids’ ability to play, I would abandon whatever separate principle or boundary had caused the conflict in the first place. He believed that if he squeezed the right pressure point, I would fall back into line.

That is why I keep saying this was never about soccer.

Soccer simply became a convenient tool to control something else.

As the year went on, it got ugly. Not inconvenient. Not tense. Ugly.

The email he wanted a response to was not some simple scheduling question or a minor misunderstanding. It was essentially a reworking of our parenting time arrangement and decision-making structure, wrapped in the language of concern and cooperation. In reality, it was another push for more, more, more.

For years, he had been pressing for increased parenting time even though none of the circumstances that originally led to our schedule had changed. He had the same job constraints. The same lack of reliable childcare support. The same inability to consistently manage important day-to-day parenting tasks. The same limited availability for school transportation. The same interpersonal style that made ordinary communication difficult and conflict frequent.

Nothing foundational had changed.

What had changed was that I was getting remarried.

Once that became real, the demands escalated. After 2.5 years with the same partner, he suddenly wanted to know my “plan” for having other people around the children. He wanted me to sign agreements saying I would not change schools, despite the fact that school choice was already addressed in our existing order. He wanted a new arrangement where the children’s sports and activities would rotate year to year between our two communities, which sounds harmless until you realize it would destroy continuity, friendships, coaching relationships, and stability for the kids. He wanted assurances about money, commitments, and concessions that all conveniently benefited him.

My answer was no.

Not because I wanted conflict, but because I was not going to sign away reasonable structure every time he applied pressure.

That refusal became the fuel for what happened next. Because I would not agree to his new demands, he decided he would not agree to let the children continue with soccer and hockey.

And then came the first soccer practice of the season.

It was his dinner night with the children. At that point, he did not have midweek overnights, just dinner time until seven o’clock. He picked the kids up from school, knowing full well that practice started around six and that it was the first practice of the year. All three of our daughters were practicing at the same location, and for our youngest daughter, who was six at the time, it was her first night with a brand new team.

I was coaching the older two.

Anyone who has coached children knows what that means. Other families are counting on you. Other children are showing up expecting leadership and structure. You cannot casually abandon the field because someone decided to create chaos.

Still, everyone tried to make it work. My parents got involved. My then-fiancé got involved. I was texting and calling, trying to solve the problem like a normal adult. We first asked if he would bring the children to practice. Then we asked if either me, my parents or my fiance could pick the kids up early so they could make it to practice. We explained the timing. We explained that I needed to know in advance because I had to be there as the coach. We tried every reasonable avenue available.

What came back was not cooperation. It was leverage.

If I did not say yes to the unrelated demands he had been making, he would not bring them. He would not let me get them. He would not give a clear answer. He knew I was under pressure. He knew the children wanted to go. He knew other people were depending on me.

That was the point.

He did not bring them early. He would not release them. He would not help solve it.

And then he told the children soccer was canceled because it was raining - even though soccer was not actually canceled.

The kids had all of their gear. They were ready to go. They were excited for a new season with old friends. I had already said practice was still on. But my ex telling the kids soccer was canceled meant they would not ask questions or push to go.

At seven o’clock, my then fiance, now husband, went to pick the kids up to resume my parenting time because I was actively coaching the older two girls practice for another half hour. He tried to rush them to the field so they could catch the last part of practice. The kids arrived only ten minutes before it was over. 

I still remember the look on their faces when I saw them standing on the sideline of the field.

They burst into tears. My youngest daughter said, “He lied to us. He told us it was canceled.” Then, when they learned practice had happened after all, he told them I had forgotten to come get them.

That is what people do not understand when they tell women to “just communicate” or “just ask permission” in high-conflict dynamics.

You are not dealing with a misunderstanding. You are dealing with someone willing to use children’s joy, trust, and disappointment as tools in an adult power struggle.

And that was only one example.

And it did not stop there.

There were several other times he told the children practices or games were canceled when they were not. Other times, he told them that I had said not to bring them. He would shift the story depending on the audience, but the outcome was always the same: confusion for the children, disruption for the team, and pressure on me.

One night stands out.

My big girls had a game, and we were already short on players. We were not going to have substitutes without them. My parenting time started at seven that evening, so we were talking about a relatively small window of time where my ex would be disrupted. I offered to pick the kids up early so they could make the game and then even give him an alternate day as a makeup. A normal co-parent would hear that and understand the children should be allowed to participate.

Instead, I drove an hour through traffic to pick them up, only to learn he had purposely left the house and taken them to their K-8 school’s eighth grade graduation so he would not be there when I arrived. My kids only knew two of the kids in the eighth grade, who I had coached on the school’s soccer team that past fall. So they weren’t invested in being there.

I had given my ex a heads up. He knew I was coming. He knew why I was coming. He knew the team was counting on them. He knew the kids wanted to play. He knew I was willing to offer replacement time.

He chose to be unavailable anyway.

So after driving all the way there, I then had to turn around and drive another hour and a half north, past my own home, to get to the game. When it was over, I had to coordinate my parents picking the children up at the normal exchange time and meeting me later so they could be returned appropriately.

That was life.

Everything required unnecessary effort. Every ordinary childhood activity became a logistical obstacle course because one person wanted control more than he wanted peace for the children.

The same kinds of issues happened with hockey. They happened repeatedly enough that other people started to see it for themselves. Parents on the soccer teams. Parents at the rink. Families who had no context for our history suddenly got a front-row seat to what high-conflict behavior actually looks like in real life.

They saw the missed games. They saw the chaos. They saw children arriving late, upset, confused, or not at all. They saw how much energy had to be spent simply trying to let kids be kids.

That season was a dark time for our family.

It impacted the children socially. They were embarrassed when they missed practices and games and then had to answer questions from teammates about where they had been. They felt different. They felt singled out. They felt the tension, even when adults thought they were hiding it.

And if I am being honest, I think it was one of the seasons that permanently changed how my older children viewed their father.

Children eventually become aware.

They notice who creates peace and who creates problems. They notice who tells the truth and who manipulates. They notice who shows up for their joy and who uses it as collateral damage in an adult conflict.

That awareness came much earlier than it should have for them.

This is why I say that when you are dealing with a high-conflict person, you need provisions and safeguards that might seem unnecessary to outsiders. If both parents are reasonable, many things can remain flexible. If one parent weaponizes flexibility, then flexibility becomes the problem.

And that is exactly where good parenting plans come in.

If you are in a high-conflict co-parenting situation, one of the biggest mistakes you can make is building a parenting plan around the fantasy that the two of you will simply “agree” on things as they come up.

That language sounds mature. It sounds cooperative. It sounds like something two healthy adults would be able to navigate.

But when one parent uses conflict, delay, punishment, or control as part of the dynamic, “by agreement of the parties” often becomes a trap.

Because what that really means is this: every future decision becomes another opportunity for leverage.

Every season of sports. Every activity registration. Every school-related issue. Every camp, lesson, club, or recurring commitment can become one more moment where the other parent gets to say no, stall, ignore you, demand concessions, or create contact that never needed to happen in the first place.

That is exhausting. It is destabilizing. And in many cases, it is exactly the point.

You do not want a setup where you have to go back and re-procure consent for every new soccer season, hockey season, dance session, or school-year activity if the child has already been participating in something consistently. You are creating unnecessary communication, unnecessary access to you, and unnecessary vulnerability to conflict.

If the other parent knows something matters to you, or matters to the child, or creates stress when disrupted, that can become a pressure point.

Instead, strong parenting plans create continuity first and re-decision only when something material actually changes.

That means language more along the lines of: the child will continue in their existing sport, activity, club, or routine unless a meaningful change occurs that reasonably requires reconsideration.

Examples of meaningful changes might include:

• the child no longer wants to participate

• the organization folds or discontinues the program

• one parent relocates and travel becomes unreasonable

• the cost materially increases

• the schedule materially changes

• the commitment level substantially increases

• a legitimate health or safety issue arises

Now we are no longer re-deciding the same issue every few months based on moods, grudges, or power struggles. We are only revisiting the issue when something actually changes.

That is a much healthier framework for children.

The next piece is just as important: decision protocols.

Because even with good language, conflict tends to fill any gap left open.

If a parent becomes aware that a child wants to quit, wants to switch clubs, wants to try a new activity, or if costs or schedules materially change, there should be a clear process. That parent should communicate in writing through the designated platform, whether that is OurFamilyWizard, AppClose, email, or another agreed system. The message should identify the change, explain the issue, and propose a solution.

The receiving parent should then have a set time to respond, such as 48 hours.

And “respond” should mean substantively respond.

Not “No.”
Not silence.
Not baiting conflict.

A real response should include a position, reasoning, and an alternative if they disagree.

If no agreement is reached, the matter should move quickly to the next dispute-resolution step already identified in the plan, whether that is mediation, a parenting consultant, binding arbitration, or another agreed professional. The goal is to get decisions made before deadlines pass and opportunities are lost for the child.

Because once registration closes, teams fill, or seasons begin, the child is often the one paying the price for adult dysfunction.

If timing is tight and there is no realistic way to complete dispute resolution before a deadline, my practical recommendation is usually to preserve the opportunity first and sort it out second. In many situations, that may mean registering the child and withdrawing later if necessary, rather than allowing a preventable lapse caused by conflict or delay.

Every situation is different, and legal advice should always be tailored to your jurisdiction and order, but strategically, children should not lose opportunities because one parent weaponized the calendar.

And if you are living this right now, I also want to say something that matters:

You are not difficult because you want structure.
You are not controlling because you want clarity.
You are not dramatic because you are tired of chaos.

Many parents in high-conflict situations are criticized for wanting detailed provisions, deadlines, and systems. But those same systems are often what protect children from repeated instability.

When flexibility has been abused, structure becomes compassion.

When goodwill has been exploited, boundaries become wisdom.

When “just work it out” has failed repeatedly, specificity becomes peace.

If this is an area where you need help, I created Parenting Plans That Protect to help parents think through the clauses, decision points, and real-life issues that generic parenting plans miss. It is designed for people who want to reduce future conflict, protect their children’s routines, and stop renegotiating the same battles year after year.

Snag Parenting Plans That Protect HERE

Cheering you on every step of the way.

- Taylor Winds 🫶🏾