Hi friends,
This week’s lesson was a masterclass in resilience, pivots, and not panicking when the plan falls apart — taught by a 9-year-old with a lemonade stand.
My daughter has become laser-focused over the last few weeks on running a lemonade stand. Not a casual “set up a table and see what happens” situation. No. A vision. A brand. A location. A sunset vibe.
(It’s been named Last Light Lemonade and set up at the cliff near our house where everyone watches the sunset. She has already figured out marketing better than me at the ripe age of 9.)
So, she made a business plan. (At my demand… because I’m a homeschool mom now.)
She set a goal: make $10 profit. (Respect.)
She was READY.
After a week of preparation, sign-making, and lemon-squeezing, we arrived to set up and… it started raining.
Not a gentle mist.
Not “oh this will pass.”
Full-on rain.
Cue the dramatic tears.
Like, existential, Shakespearean tears. (I have no one but myself to blame — we’ve poured an obscene amount of money into her acting lessons.)
“This is the worst day ever. Why? HOW could this happen to me?!”
Honestly?
Relatable.
So I let her have her moment. I told her the truth:
“I know this feels really icky. You worked hard, and now it feels ruined.”
Then I added:
“But you have a choice, my little entrepreneur. You can cry…
or you can pivot and figure out how to sell lemonade in the rain.”
She immediately said:
“Cry.”
Fair. Emotional regulation before strategy. We respect that here.
So she cried.
Then we breathed diaphragmatically — because would you expect anything different from me?
And in that moment of deep belly breathing, something magical happened.
Her bestie’s mom texted:
“Is the lemonade stand still on? We’re on our way.”
Then another friend:
“We’re coming.”
Then another.
Her community showed up.
And suddenly this “ruined” lemonade stand turned into a rain-soaked, chaotic, joy-filled sunset where people gathered, laughed, and drank lemonade anyway.
It was honestly the best night.
And my little peanut?
She sold.
Out.
Of.
Lemonade.
In the rain.
Final profit: $58.
And she is SO proud of herself.
And honestly? So am I.
Because the win wasn’t the money.
The win was learning — at nine years old — that:
Plans change.
Sometimes you cry.
Sometimes you pivot.
Sometimes you do both.
And you can still succeed.
This is corrective exercise in real life.
We don’t pretend the rain isn’t happening.
We don’t shame the tears.
And we certainly don’t force the system to “push through.”
We adapt.
We regulate the nervous system.
We stabilize before we load.
We adjust the plan.
We bring in support.
And then we rebuild — safely, sustainably, and with way less drama.
This is especially true during transitions — pregnancy, postpartum, perimenopause, menopause, big life changes, stressful seasons.
Your body isn’t failing you.
It’s responding to new conditions.
And what it needs isn’t punishment or hustle — it needs awareness, structure, patience, and support.
(And don’t underestimate the power of a hype squad. Community is everything.)
Which brings me to this:
If you’re feeling like your body is stuck in the rain, let’s talk. My consultations are free, and we can see if working together might be the solution to making lemonade out of the lemons you’ve been handed lately.
You can reach me at [email protected].
Sometimes healing looks like a perfect workout.
Sometimes it looks like crying in the rain and selling lemonade anyway.
And honestly?
That’s the kind of strength I want for all of us.
Sending you lots of love and lemonade,
Coach Joanie
My kiddo, sitting in the car, sign hung in the window, umbrella hanging outside the window to create a potental "lemonade drive through window" situation, desparately hoping for the rain to pass.
Responses