To my baby girl, the day you turn one…

To my baby girl, the day you turn one,

Oh, my sweet JoJo, how do I write a letter to fully express the ways this year with you has changed our entire family…our entire world? The day you were born, nothing could ever rotate or propel forward the same again. You stopped time for me, for a mere moment, but it happened and I’ve felt as though I’m living a moment behind ever since.

The number of prayers that reached heaven in your name are far too great to number. God must have thought highly of me to loan you to these waiting arms, although there are plenty of days that I don’t comprehend it. The first six months of your life, I couldn’t truly process that you were here for good. I was so grateful for generous friends and hand-me-downs because if it weren’t for them, you would have been naked. It’s hard to buy clothes in the next size for a baby you aren’t sure is going to stay. That sounds awful when I say it out loud, but that’s what grief after a seemingly endless season of loss will do to a spirit. But, it DID end, we made it through and you fought your fight. And what a fight! You are the strongest little wisp I know. A child who’s experienced nothing of a life free from weekly violations, pokes and prods, yet waits with open arms and a smile as if to prove forgiveness when it’s all over…THAT’S an earthly show of grace!

Oh, how I praise God for His grace! Whatever is ailing your tiny body hasn’t stopped you from making big leaps. You crawl as lightning fast as your brother did. You chatter as brilliantly as your sister. And you’ve managed a sense of humor all your own! I often wonder if you knew your brothers and sisters in heaven and if they sent you here with instructions…”now give mom a hard time about getting you dressed. Be sure to REALLY enjoy bathtime. Make it hard for them to get anything done because they just want to hold you all day.” Or are all those little quirks your own? Do you know that you are my last draft and you are giving me all the really great story lines? Because you DO! Processing the milestones you’ve reached as “lasts,” instead of firsts has, at times, seemed a bit on the pessimistic side. But, I hope that in recognizing them, I’ve been able to soak in your littleness just a bit more thoughtfully than I would have otherwise.

When I was pregnant with you and we thought you were gone, I remember praying so hard that my guts literally ached. I prayed that if God would just get you earthside safely, then we would do anything that was necessary to save your life. I didn’t realize how much you’d be saving mine. You’ve occupied a space that wasn’t empty, necessarily. It was just filled with ghosts. It was sad and churning and often very bitter. But you don’t sit on that seat in my heart anymore. You’ve been replaced by precious memories of the happy news of each of your siblings, who despite being born into heaven, will always be my babies. No, dear one, you occupy the sweet spot, the part of my heart that has learned to trust God. The part that has learned patience…the really, really hard way, but that has seen the fruit from the waiting. You sit on the part of my heart that knows you and your brother and sister are the best things Papa and I have going in our lives, but that you aren’t really ours. You belong to the one true King and for that I can praise mightily. For he has chosen me…little old sinful, arrogant, selfish, hot-headed ME to get to be YOUR mama for as long as you’ll stay. It’s a job I’ll gladly keep doing because, Miss Josephine- jelly bean, prettiest girl I’ve ever seen….I love you to the sun and the moon and the stars and back again a hundred million times. So very fresh, so very full of light, so much joy…you’re my Jovi girl. Happy birthday.

Love, Mama

To my daughter, on your seventh birthday…

To my daughter, on your seventh birthday,

This year is nearly a blur for me and

I know for you, it couldn’t go fast enough. There’s something about the age of seven, suspended between toddler and tween; little, but not so little anymore. Those eight teeth you’ve lost betray your baby fine wispy hair and let the world in on our little secret…you’ve grown, when I expressly forbade it. Your sense of humor, often awkward and reticent, but absolutely precious, keeps me guessing in which direction you’ll pounce next. You process concepts that seem far too big for your tender heart and I see little snips of innocence dissolve as realities of certain sin and hurts sink in. That part of growing up is the hardest for a mama soul to witness. But, just as I must accept your vulnerable heart and your burgeoning wisdom, I must also accept the dear friend you are becoming to those around you. I am the center of your world no more. As excruciating as this revelation is to my ego, it is so beautiful to be front row at the show of your grace, generosity and caring nature. You are a good friend, baby girl. Never underestimate the power of your smile and a kind word. The world is better for both. You experienced true heartbreak for the first time this year and I believe it has created in you a tender spot for those who are less acknowledged than you are.

I’m proud; proud of your gentle way with your baby sister and how you’ve just assumed the new norm of sharing your birthday without many a grumble; proud of your eagerness in school, proud of your desire to learn God’s word, proud of how you give new ventures your very last drop of enthusiasm, proud of how you try with all the TRY you’ve got to have patience with your brother, proud of how you teach and model for him how to be a generally cool kid, proud of how when it comes down to it, you stay true to yourself. I’m proud of how you’ve handled this year of doctor appointments and hospital stays for your siblings and more nights away from mama than you’ve had the rest of your life combine with absolute grace. You’ve never blamed anyone and even in your sadness, you’ve still managed to be a comforter. That’s a huge undertaking for a little kid. But then again, I suppose you aren’t so little anymore.

You are truly my sunshine. When I was pregnant with your sister and we discussed what it meant to be a “rainbow baby,” you started to cry and asked me, “but if this baby is a rainbow baby and Griffin is a rainbow baby, what does that make me? Am I nothing?” Oh, my dearest, sweetest- souled girl…you, YOU are my sunshine girl. You gave me the name “mama” and forever and always YOU will be my number one. So, today, the day that you flip the calendar page to lucky number 7, know that you have me in your corner. You have my prayers, my support, my tears and my hugs, whenever, wherever and for however long you need them. I love you to the sun and the moon and the stars and back again a hundred million times. Always intentional. Always pure in action. Always determined, yet sweet…always my Charlie girl. Happy birthday.

Love, Mama

SinkBoss is the Boss


We travel often. I mean, Chuck had 27 flights under her belt by the age of two! Hotels are our kids’ favorite destination…regardless of the destination! So, when I found SinkBoss, I knew instantly that it was a gadget for me!

When JoJo was admitted to CHLA for a week this summer, I found keeping her bottles and pump pieces clean was a real challenge. You would think that sanitary conditions would be easy to come by in a pediatric hospital. But, alas, I always found myself sharing a sink with our roommate or a nurse, washing hands post-procedure or God only knows what else! Not exceptionally welcoming for washing my medically fragile daughter’s food equipment!


  • At MommyCon last month, I was drawn to the SinkBoss booth. I knew instantly this little device could change the nicu/hospital/hotel experience for pumping and bottle feeding mamas! Basically, you are ascribing to the old adage by taking everything AND your kitchen sink with you…but without it being cumbersome! By lifting bottle and pump pieces up and out of the shared washing space of questionable cleanliness and giving everything a designated place to dry, you essentially avoid all the germs you were trying to wash off in the first place! And, it folds up to fit in a suitcase. How handy is that? Recently, I have seen some other creative ways to use Sinkboss highlighted on their Instagram. Check it out, all you mamas and not-mamas alike!



(I was provided a sinkboss free of charge in exchange for an honest review.)

Carseat Shopping with Preschoolers- Britax Endeavours

As you know, I’ve been confined, a prisoner, if you will, on bed rest for the last month. For someone who LOVES baby things and happens to be pregnant…and in need of baby things…this was torture. So, one of my first stops on my first day of freedom was Buy Buy Baby to check out all that has changed since Bug was cooking in my belly. And, woah! It’s a LOT! One of my favorite things we checked out was the new Britax Endeavours infant carseat. This seat goes from 4-35lbs, which for a mama with a high risk of birthing a premie, this is great news!


Obviously, Bug exceeds the max weight limit! But he approves the comfort level!

With the steel anti-rebound bar, there is 30% less rebound in a front or rear crash.

Even Chuck could maneuver its user-friendly design.

“Baby” the cabbage patch doll appreciates the safety measures present both with or without a base. With latch or auto seatbelts, Baby is riding with exceedingly high safety standards.

Chuck really enjoyed learning about how she can help take care of her new baby sibling in this #1 safety-rated seat. Bug, on the other hand, enjoyed torturing his sister. What can I say, they were stoked to get out of the house, too! I dare you to watch to the end without laughing!

Carseat Shopping With Preschoolers- Video


*I was compensated to check out this rad seat. All children and their wackado behaviors are my own.

30 Days

Thirty days of confinement, rest, restrictions and caution. Thirty days of figuring out a new normal and a new sense of purpose. Thirty days to dwell in my thoughts and fears and hopes for this baby and our family.

I haven’t done them well. I don’t know how one does. Two young children who need every piece of me that I can’t physically give and one deep-rooted character of pride sitting in my heart; these have been my companions. I didn’t realize how dependent I am on being INdependent until this last month. Ladies from bible study asked 10 times before they finally TOLD me they were coming to clean my kitchen. A meal train that ended up being a literal lifeline for my family was set up without me signing off…and I am so, so glad. Several friends grocery shopped, played mom-taxi and entertained my minions…all just by DOING. Because, you see, if there is one thing us moms are great at, it’s LOOKING as if we have it all under control….even if that’s not logistically possible. So, I dedicate the last thirty days to those who just DO. Thank you.

Now, the next thirty days? Who knows?! I was tentatively released from strict bed rest! It turns out the complete placenta previa that was aggravated by a pretty large subchorionic hematoma just…moved. I mean, last week it was bad. Really, really “you’re gonna have a c-section if you don’t go into preterm labor before,” bad. And this week, God said, “move!” and it did! Even my high risk doctor was surprised at the level of progress. The hematoma is still there and relatively large, but without the concern of the previa, it’s not as big of an issue right now. I am still on “light duty,” but I am able to leave the house. I can take Chuck to our Classical Conversations community day without reprimand and I can resume our normal dance/Awana/mops routine. Most exciting to me….TARGET! I know, so basic, right? But really, Chip and Joanna have been waiting for me. I must go!

I am 18.5 weeks at this point and while spending so much time with my own thoughts, I began to count down to different milestones. The most pivotal of these to me is 24 weeks. Twenty four weeks…the point of viability. The placemarker in gestation where I will never hear the words “there’s nothing we can (will) do. Just go home and manage your expectations.” Those words still burn in my ears after our traumatic night in the ER in Vegas. So, 24 weeks comes, get this, on Dec. 24! My little minnow will be statistically “viable,” a saveable miracle on Christmas Eve. How’s that for divine?!

This Sunday, Bug turns three and I can’t help but remember these milestones with him. His pregnancy was easy, for the most part, until the end. When I was 18 weeks with him, we were camping out in the mountains near Kern river, roasting marshmallows, blissfully unaware of just how much could go wrong. And here we are with this one, thanking God for each day closer to viability. It’s that way with life in general, right? We go along whistling until someone bumps us…and then someone bigger, then maybe a car or truck and then the whole dad-gum train runs us flat over and we are like, “good grief! I get it now! Life isn’t promised. Each day is a complete and utter gift. I get it.”

So, on Sunday, we will celebrate another gift of a day with our baby (middle) boy and we will once again get on our knees to thank our Heavenly Father for all the days we’ve had, and hope to have, to bring glory to Him, raising our tribe, sewing seeds of grace and mercy and working so very hard on clipping those ties to pride. Grateful for days and the ways, He shows us gently (or sometimes not SO gently) the reflection of the parts of ourselves we need to give to Him. I do get it now.


Secondary Infertility and losses

Last summer, I decided to take a break from facebook. We had just experienced the heartbreak of our second miscarriage. The ridiculousness of political rants and petty complaints became a very unwelcomed distraction from processing our pain. Leaving was good for me. I learned to cling tighter to my Savior, instead of drowning my mind in constantly refreshing my feed. Brent and I worked through our raw hurt together, again, this second time, and came out on the other side stronger than ever.

Then, it happened again. And again. And again. And again. During this year hiatus, we have grasped to a tiny life, five different times, only to be shattered as it slipped away. That’s six in total. Six babies in heaven. I’m still jaw-dropped at those words. Our most recent beloved went to be with Jesus this month, almost a year to the day of his sibling.

I’ve been reminded over and over again that God put us on this earth to live in community, to glorify Him. His love is only reflected by ours. So, this village, the people who’ve brought coffee or embraced snot-drenched sobs on their shoulders…these are the Hands and Feet. These are the ones who, without always the right words, show with action, the cross. Thank you.

There’ve been other tragedies and joys and endless hours of news, both personal and public, through the last year. It’s documented in my heart, instead of my page. Our actions, and inactions, haven’t always been understood or appreciated by those around us, and that’s ok. Healing and grieving and growing are processes, undertaken in intimacy with Jesus. Everyone does it differently. But, all you who’ve suffered, too, know, I know. And I love, too.

My babies all have names. They’ve all been loved for every second of their existence. Every bit of their being was felt and cherished. They will be remembered at due dates and loss dates…even if I have to reference my “list,” because there are so many. What mother doesn’t remember her baby’s birthday? I’m trying.

So, I suppose the point of this is…well, I’m not really sure. Maybe to try to express courage? Or insight for those who’ve wondered? Or just to document some late night, wine-induced rambling from an aching mama-heart.

Chuck and Bug are our world. They perfectly stretch our parent wings and if they complete our family, we are joy- filled. But, we stand in utter confusion at God’s plans for our family. It’s a sense of paralysis. So, I humbly ask, for those who’ve walked through the fire of secondary infertility or recurrent losses, please reach out. I need some anecdotal hope, one way or the other.

And to my husband, thank you for being mine. Thank you for holding my hand so tightly when I’m crashing to the ground. Thank you for carrying the weight this year. You have. All of it. This life hurts, but it’s also full of sweet, sweet joys and I’m so glad you’re the one by my side for them.


We lost another


I struggled with whether I should write this. It’s been eight months since my last personal blog post and perhaps such a depressing topic is not the best note on which to launch myself again. Yet, here I am. This is part of me now. It’s a strange reality to have a child you’ve carried, but never met. We have four children, two living.

We were traveling to see family when I had my first clue I might be pregnant. I have always been super in tune with my body, even to the point of knowing the day, time and from which side I ovulate. So, when the headaches started and the weird motion sickness sprung up, I knew it could be a possibility.


Still, a couple of weeks passed before I felt I should test. But, there it was, plain as day…two thin, pink lines. We’ve done this enough times now that I know what I’m looking for! There’s no doubt. But, because I’m a born skeptic…eight tests later….we’re pregnant! It’s not news we were trying for, but it was completely welcomed and celebrated and absolutely embraced. I decided, since it would be our last, this time I wanted to document breaking the news to Brent. The reveal went so perfectly and I will forever be grateful to Tiffany Nicole Photography for keeping that very HARD secret with me for two days in preparation for our family portraits. It was the sweetest. Our BABY was coming! Our baby. Our third addition was so, so loved. Charlotte patted my belly and asked if the baby would get bigger, because right now, in my tummy, it was far too little to share her room. Such joy.


And then it started. I clinched and sat so still and willed it not to. I prayed and slept and prayed some more. I drank gallons of water and begged God not to take this child; to let me be one of those rare women who just bleed throughout their otherwise completely normal, uneventful pregnancies. For several days, in pain and sorrow, I felt her slip further from me. I couldn’t save her. Lord knows I tried. Please, God…. not again. WHY, again? We were content with our two precious blessings. Why give us another child, only to take it away? Again? Wasn’t this pain enough sacrifice the first time? I can’t do this again. I WON’T. Please, please don’t make me watch my husband crumble at my feet. Please don’t make me so, so angry with you. I love you. I LOVE you.

It happened anyway. Our baby is gone. All that is left of my daughter is that thin pink line on the stick. So many tears, so much grief. To lose a child is the deepest of wounds. I know our baby is resting the arms of the Holy One, but I can’t help struggling with the question of ‘why?’ I may never know, I suppose, but I do know I am supposed to rejoice in my Lord through ALL circumstances. 1 Thess. 5:18 says, “give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” I would be lying if I said that was easy. In fact, I would be lying if I said I had yet THANKED God for any of this. I WANT my baby. But, I am thankful I have two beautiful, healthy, living babies. I am thankful I am blessed with a Godly example of a man as my partner in life. And, I suppose I am thankful that my two heaven-bound babes never have to suffer the pains and evil of this world. Maybe THAT is the blessing in all this. Maybe I can see it all more clearly when I’m not so mad. And sad.

I’ve also experienced once again the saints that walk among our circle. A meal, when I hadn’t the emotional strength to choose chicken or fish, was medicine to my soul. A beautiful bouquet sits wilting in my window right now because I don’t have the heart to remove the LOVE it represents. Words of encouragement, even when not easy to hear, and a good cup of coffee served with a dose of dark humor…these are the tiny glimpses of God’s kingdom that lift up my heart to the reality of His glory. I know He loves me…even if it all makes no sense sometimes. Thank you, each of you.

I love you, baby girl. You and your sister. I miss you both everyday. You will be loved and celebrated and acknowledged here until the day I get to meet you face to face. Take care of each other for me, will ya? I love you.



He’s one!



Aww! So sweet and demure! (Yeah, right! You know how hard I worked to get this shot?!)

It’s happened. Of course it would. But, somewhere in the pained corners of my heart I hoped he’d stay a wrinkly little squish forever. Alas, my handsome boy is one today. He’s funny and engaged, adventurous and determined. He climbs anything and everything with gusto and melts me with his tiny, “thank you.” He is one thing, though, that I was not prepared for. He’s a boy.


That sounds odd, right? Well, I keep getting it. “He’s all boy.” “He’s just a boy and boys are so different from girls.” “Get ready! Boys give you a run for your money!”

And it’s all so true. When I was a nanny, other childcare workers on the playground would talk about how so and so’s mom didn’t allow him/her to wear blue/pink for fear it would impose false gender identity on them. Tommy’s mom only let him play with dolls because toy trucks are so stereotypical for boys. Sally’s dad thought she should be allowed to pee standing up if she desired so as not to squelch her budding gender exploration. I even had one family for whom I personally worked tell me to only refer to their child by name and never with “him/her” since those are “pronouns that project societal ideals on a child.” HE was 18 months old.


Notice the giant flap of flesh missing from his forehead…he tried to jump to his own demise ON his first birthday! So much for a photoshoot!

I call bologna. Since when is being a boy, BAD? Why are we feminizing the acceptable role of men and boys in our society? It’s just not real life. I had a lady tell me once that children don’t form “gender” specific attributes until society teaches them to. I would like to submit exhibit A. My very physically motivated son has been challenging himself to conquer literal mountains since the first day he could army crawl…at 4 1/2 months old. He throws himself from the top of toys just to see how it feels. He takes risks for the thrill of the wind in his two wispy hairs. Things that excite him are trucks and mud and growling. He prefers meat to just about anything else and he farts. Constantly. Stereotypical…for sure! Truth…absolutely. After all, aren’t most stereotypes born in some truth?



SO, perhaps because of the feedback I got from reading too many opinion pieces on Huff Post, I was not prepared for what would actually lie in my future if I had a boy. I grew up with three brothers, but surely their “machismo,” if you will, was thrust upon them by our folks, right? My child would be whatever, WHOever he wanted because I would be a totally free-range parent. Surely that would make for a sweet, soft-spoken, well-mannered, totally-in-tune-with-his-feelings little dude, RIGHT? Well, I AM a pretty free-range-y mom and this is what I get. A kid determined to kill himself before adolescence!


I’m not discounting the exceptions. Chuck likes bugs and dirt and running naked and free in the backyard….all traits commonly attributed to the masculine. And Buddy has a sister so he is absolutely familiar with dolls and headbands and tea parties. But, overall, she tends to be more sweet and sassy than stout and steady. And I posit…that’s good!



Why are we so eager to blend in to one gender, while at the same time screaming out for recognition of our individuality? Shouldn’t the sexes be celebrated for their obvious specific strengths?



It’s quite the honor to be the mama to my boy. I cherish the role I have to help mold his sense of chivalry and moral fortitude. I don’t want to live in a world where men don’t open doors for their date or feel the responsibility to take care of their families. Where will it get us? It definitely won’t guide the state of the family unit into a harmonious lot. And, I mean really, are little boys not just the cutest, scariest, most exhausting form of love joy there is? And I don’t want to squash THAT!

Club MomMe Springfest



Spring fest red carpet

Bug and me, rocking the red carpet.


The Diono Ranier, in the color “Storm,” is the car seat we chose for Bug. Although, this “houndstooth” is pretty dapper!

Its’s that time of year. It seems like every weekend in April and May is filled with baby showers, sprinkles and births! Well, one weekend last month I got an extra special treat when I was invited to attend Club MomMe’s Springfest and learn all about the new and improved baby gear those mamas-to-be will be coveting!

image image image image

We got to test out some pretty awesome car seats, from the Britax Click tight which installs in 30 seconds to the Diono Ranier with its 45lb rear-facing limit! Jujube did a show-and-tell for their BFF diaper bag and boy, is that thing versatile! I could totally see carrying it post baby, laptop and all! Not to mention the prints are cute. Look at the anchors! Bug checked out the Halo “bassinest” with interest. I definitely see this becoming the new must-have cosleeper for new parents as it provides more maneuverability in those middle of the night feeding sessions. And, of course we had to say hi to Lansinoh, the maker of the world’s most leak-proof (and Bug approved) breastmilk storage bags!


Baby products weren’t the only things to be educated about. Several panels took place throughout the day with topics ranging from moms in media to childhood milestones. The one I found most informational was this one on vaccinations…a charged topic, indeed!


image image

Then came the really fun part…for this tired mommy, anyway! The Club MomMe folks provided a pamper lounge complete with massages and manicures! I got a relaxing bacbackrub while baby boy slept peacefully in the Bob. Then, it was my turn for a manicure and the G man worked his magic on the ladies of Ella Mila! They loved his bald head and dimpled grin.

image image image



To complete a really perfect, educational day, we went home with a trunk-load of goodies! We won a travel crib from Bjorn and a walker/toddler table combo from Combi! I have won things only a handful of times in my life, so needless to say I made a fool of myself jumping up and down when my ticket number was called!


Thank you Club MomMe for a great event and for providing access to these timeless baby brands. I really learned so much.


You can get involved with Club MomMe and their full roster of events by visiting the website at .


I will be running with Chuck and Bug in their next event, the Stroll ‘n Run 5k. Will you join me? Use code “run” for a discount on registration check out at!









It tastes like ice cream

We started keeping Chuck accountable for helping around the house. She turned 3 last month and Hfoe and I agreed, with that sassy personality of hers, she is more than capable of maintaining a short list of responsibilities. On the list are chores like helping feed the dogs and making her bed. She gets the holy grail of stickers to mark the square for “staying in bed all night” because that is such a monumental event on the rare occasion it actually happens! The final space on her Mickey Mouse chore chart is reserved for “extra helps through the day.” She gets to place the coveted Sofia the first stickers on this space when she helps clean her sticky fingerprints off the floor to ceiling mirror in the living room (whoever installed that did NOT have toddlers) or she brings me buddy’s diapers, etc. She’s the quickest to remind us of these little extras throughout the day and has even started trying to negotiate her way into stickers for brushing her teeth and eating dinner. Nice try, pal! My favorite part of this chore chart, though, is the little “memo” section which allows us to write notes and goals for the week. Never mind that our goal for the week has remained the same for the 5 weeks we have been doing it…”no whining, no crying, no being mean.” A lofty goal, for sure. We must repeat this mantra often, but repetition is the key, right?! Along with our goal for the week, we have been choosing scripture verses for C (and us if we are being honest) to memorize. So far, she has memorized Luke 6:31, Phil. 4:13 and 1 John 4:19. I couldn’t be prouder! Besides, my little sinner is going to need all the guidance she can recall because this kid is mischievous, let me tell you!

Who me? I am a perfect angel.



Her recent antics prove that perhaps we shouldn’t be spending so much time on verses about “doing unto others…” as we should be on something more like “thou shalt not bear false witness.”


I  mentioned that one of her chores is to help us feed the dogs in both the morning and the evening. A couple days ago, as Chuckles was carrying the cup full of food outside, I ran ahead of her to find the dog’s bowl that had blown away with the Santa Anas. When I turned around to bring her the bowl, she had a smug grin on her face. And the tiniest kernel of kibble on her lip.

“Kid! Did you just eat dog food?!”

I know we all did it at one point or another, but she’s THREE! We aren’t talking about an early walker here!

Just as emphatically as I proclaimed my disgust and astonishment, she rebutted, “I did NOT!”

Perhaps the art of discretion is lost on her, but the evidence was literally written on her face.

“You did, too and now you just lied about it! I hope it tasted gross!”

We eat organic in this house, for crying out loud. What could possibly drive her to desire processed chicken byproduct and ground corn meal?

“Nope. It tasted like ice cream!”

And the lie of lies, she blasphemed ice cream….

Whatever, kid. I just hope you don’t get worms. And next time you beg and whine and plead for ice cream, you better believe you’re getting one heaping cupful of pro plan!


Maybe we need to add a sticker line for refraining from taking food out of our puppy sisters’ mouths. Next week’s memory verse will be Deut. 14:3. She needs the lesson.