Detach

Zoe was still worked up about a difficult ballet lesson last week. It makes her uncomfortable that she isn't picking it up as fast as the others, and she gets upset. So my best advice as I sent her off to Grandma's today-if you start to feel upset, detach. Don't worry. Unplug. (I told her that sometimes Ann is "unplugged" and it helps her get through a tough day.) I'm still learning how to do this. Maybe this little bit of advice will follow Zoe through her most difficult years. She never forgets, that's for sure.

Mornings are the hardest-between 9-12. That's when K shows up and takes the stage. Her low monotone Oh My Gods and unsolicited stories that always come back to either her alcoholic ex husband or that time she was at an Asian restaurant and was served a rancid scallop. The way she asks you how you're doing, barely listens to a word and then launches into a detailed rundown of her previous night's activities, always so disappointing, "But it's fine! It was still fine." The dog pooped in her bed but it's fine. The inspector said the wiring isn't up to code but it's fine. She resembles her chihuahua in her twitchy insecure demeanor. Begging for validation.

Detach.