What are the opening hours?

Tuesday 6pm - 8pm Friday 2pm - 4pm Saturday 10am - 12pm

http://www.jennicajoyceyoga.com/

Jennica Joyce Yoga, 61325 29 Palms Highway STE E, Joshua Tree, CA (2025)

11/09/2025

What’s something you wish you knew again that you knew as a kid?

We’ve been on the road for over two months now — four kids, one RV, zero dishwasher.

In the beginning, my husband did all the dishes. I happily let him. But somewhere along the way, I put on my big girl pants and said, “I got this too.”

And this week, as we stayed put for four nights in Northeast Texas — the longest we’ve stayed anywhere — I noticed something new: I actually enjoy it.

The warm water, the rhythm, the satisfaction of seeing an empty sink — there’s a quiet peace in doing something simple with your hands.

It’s funny because pre-kids, when my husband and I lived in a home without a dishwasher, the dishes caused our biggest tension. We’d argue over whose turn it was, both exhausted, both wanting to do anything but scrub plates.

But out here, on the road, I’ve realized — that’s not my version of success. I don’t want to escape the small things. I want to feel them.

Maybe that’s what we knew as kids — when we played “house” and “kitchen” and found joy in pretending to do exactly what we now call chores. Somewhere along the way, we forgot.

I’m remembering again. How about you?

11/01/2025

I used to see Halloween as “the devil’s holiday.”

Now I see it as a night for connection, creativity, and remembering those we love.

A few weeks ago we went big at Jellystone in Massachusetts — like, helicopter candy drop big 🍬🚁.

We even made friends with another camping family and entered our boys in the costume contest as “The Friendly Superheros” 🦸‍♂️😂 because apparently that’s what happens when kids mix creativity with campground politics.

But on actual Halloween, we found ourselves parked at a quiet state park along the Arkansas River — calm, peaceful, and far from the chaos. Only a few campers had candy, so we ended up passing out more than we collected. Honestly, it felt right.

Our crew: two hunters, a Transformer, a tiger, and Sally (me 💀🎀) from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

Dinner came first:
🫐 witches’ eyes (blueberries)
🥒 frog legs (cucumber sticks)
🍓 blood hearts (strawberries)

A spooky little tradition I hope sticks. Public health for the win. 😉

I didn’t grow up celebrating Halloween. Over time, I’ve learned to reframe it — not as a night of gluttony or horror, but as a chance to meet neighbors, get creative, and honor those who’ve passed.

✨ May the traditions that bring blessings stick — and may we always find a little light in the dark.

PS- Bonus points if you can name the house we are in front of in picture 8 and 9. Hint: its in Alabama

10/28/2025

Our cave guide talked about bacon and popcorn… and now that’s all my 6-year-old remembers about Kentucky. 🍿🥓

Back in Maine, I met a 9-year-old who’s been full-time RVing for six years — practically his whole life.

So naturally, I asked him:
“What’s your favorite place you’ve ever been?”

Without missing a beat:
“Mammoth Cave.”

At the time, I had to Google where that even was (Kentucky 😅).
I laughed and said, “Maybe we’ll go there one day.”

My husband swears I got laser-focused after that conversation — but honestly, getting excited about things is just what I do. It’s how I bring joy to the planning and life to the journey.

I never thought we’d actually go on this trip,
but here I am — letting go of the reins —
and somehow, magic happens yet again.

Only plot twist: the government shutdown meant no tours inside Mammoth Cave.

So we headed to Diamond Caverns instead — and it turned out to be perfect.

Our 6-year-old listened wide-eyed as the guide described formations that looked like bacon 🥓 and popcorn 🍿.
Now that’s all he talks about.

Maybe that’s the real lesson — when we loosen control, life fills the gaps with something even better.

Can you spot the belly button formation in photo 5? (Yes, that’s what our guide called it 😂)

10/25/2025

Our home on wheels is rolling again…
and apparently my life lessons are too. 😅

You’d think I’d have mastered the whole flow + surrender thing by now.

Spoiler: I have not. 😂

The moment we pulled out of the mechanic’s lot, the tension crept back in…

I want plans + people + predictability.
My husband wants freedom + sunshine.

Cue the gentle marital tug-of-war. 🥴

And life whispers (again):

“Pay attention. The magic is in the moments you didn’t script."

Like when my daughter grabbed my hand and said, “This is the BEST date ever, Mamma!” on our takeout dash.

Or when my 8-year-old let me carry him the last stretch, silent with a tummy that hurt so badly.

My arms say yes while they still can.

Also yes — I threw an adult-sized tantrum in a gas station parking lot… and had no idea why I was upset. 🙃 I asked my husband if he knew — he didn’t either. We laughed right then and there.

If yoga has taught me anything, it’s this:

It’s not about perfection.
It’s about transitions.
Judging less.
Getting curious more.

So I breathe.
I ask questions.
I soften.

We still don’t know exactly when we’ll make it home to Joshua Tree.
We’re letting weather + whimsy shape the pace.

Meanwhile, our toddler tried to walk out of the camper, rolled down the stairs, and somehow managed to headbutt a bike on the way down. He’s totally fine — our tiniest warrior on the road.🤕✨

May we all have that level of grit.

Life’s best lessons aren’t in the plan. They’re in the giggles, the scrapes, and the tiny arms around your neck.

See you somewhere between here and home. 🫶🌵🚐

Meanwhile, I got to know.

Which one are you on road trips?
🗺️ The planner
🌞 The free spirit
🤣 The baby who wrestles bikes

PS — I got behind the wheel for the first time after we got the RV back. Took one spin around the parking lot and thought, I’m good.

Alex, take the wheel. 😅

10/23/2025

The power steering gave out just after we decided to cut the trip short — almost like life itself had something to say about my need to move, to plan, to steer.

We were only trying to make things easier: one less detour, a shorter drive, a more direct route home. But then came the leak — quick, whirring, impossible to ignore.

So here we are, grounded in Virginia, in a quiet hotel room instead of our little house on wheels. And I can’t help but wonder… maybe this pause isn’t mechanical at all, but spiritual.

Maybe something in me needed to stop leaking energy, control, or worry. Maybe life is asking me to loosen my grip on the wheel — to let the steering go soft and remember what it feels like to be guided.

What if this breakdown isn’t bad timing, but exactly what we needed?
What if we're not being delayed, just redirected?

I keep asking myself:

Where have I been forcing direction instead of going with the flow?

What parts of me are running low and actually just need rest?

What would it mean to let grace take the wheel, even just for this stretch of road?

Maybe the lesson isn’t fixing what’s broken.
Maybe it’s remembering who’s really in control — not the driver, but the divine current beneath it all.

If you need to loosen the reins a little too, try this: put your hands on the steering wheel, your laptop, or even your shoulders — anywhere you feel tension. Take a slow inhale and exhale, and consciously soften your hold. Notice how your body or mind responds.

That’s your first taste of letting go — you don’t have to wait for your car to break down. 🙂

PS — we did get some pool time, and we’re right next to a movie theater. When life throws lemons… just breathe. 🙂

10/21/2025

War shaped this land. Motherhood reshapes how I see it.

A visit to the Gettysburg Battlefield Museum stirred something deep in me.
History has a way of asking hard questions —
Can the means ever truly justify the end?
Can men ever truly die in vain?

As I watched the film, I thought of my boys — their wrestling, their play fights, their jiu-jitsu lessons.
We talk about consent and respect. Stop means stop.

Maybe peace begins there — in how we teach strength with sensitivity.

In how we let our children feel their power and their empathy.

My old professor, a Holocaust survivor, once told me that just as humanity has outgrown practices once seen as normal, so too can we one day outgrow war.

That idea lingers.
And it makes me wonder —

If peace begins at home, what does it look like in your home?

Tonight, we rest in Virginia.
And somehow it feels fitting.
Virginia is for lovers. ❤️

10/11/2025

My six-year-old asked me something I couldn’t answer — and it’s been echoing in my mind ever since.

He said, “Mom, if I’m perfect just as I am, why do you keep telling me to stop?”

I froze.

Because he’s right.

I do tell him he’s perfect as he is — and yet I also tell him to stop hitting his sister or screaming in the baby’s ears.

Both are true.

We’re about halfway through our three-month road school adventure, nearly 3,000 miles from home. Somewhere between Maine’s rocky beaches and playground stops, this question has followed me — reminding me that parenting is one long conversation between what is and what could be.

I think about the lessons I grew up with — to work hard, to improve, to be my best. My parents wanted that for me because they wanted my life to be easier, fuller, better. And I’m so grateful for that.

But I also see how easy it is to carry those same values so tightly that we forget to pause and simply be.

Now, as a parent, I’m trying to hold both truths:

That growth matters — and that we are already whole.

That we can teach responsibility — without teaching shame.

Maybe that’s what breaking generational cycles really is… not rejecting what came before, but refining it with more awareness, softness, and grace.

Because deep down, I think we’re all born good.
We just forget sometimes.

✨ How do you balance teaching your kids right from wrong while helping them feel enough just as they are?

10/01/2025

Michigan, you’ve been wild, wonderful, and a little unpredictable.

From storm-twisted forests that completely fascinated my 8-year-old to duck battles in the St. Claire River (my little girl called it “the best show ever” as I was rescued by my shirtless knight wielding a sand shovel 🏖🦆), adventure found us everywhere.

The kids couldn’t get enough of the giant jumping pillow at our last campground—burying each other in sand daily (hello, nonstop showers 🚿). We even collected acorns to boil and test later—turns out I’m roadschooling right alongside them. The boys and I got to fish for the very first time.

Best of all? Family time. Uncles, aunts, and cousins (and their kids the same age as mine!). Watching six little cousins who’d never met before instantly become best friends? Pure magic.

Michigan was more food, less structure, and the sweetest reminder of why we’re doing this—to be with our kids, connect with family, and learn everywhere.

Ohio, here we come. 💛

PS Want the full duck drama? If 3 people comment “duck”, I’ll spill the whole ridiculous story on my blog. 🦆😂

09/27/2025

3,883 miles, 12 states, and 8 junior ranger badges in one month… but the real journey isn’t about the numbers.

It’s in learning how to communicate, laugh through the chaos, and find our rhythm together on the road.

As we head into the East Coast, we’re slowing the pace: fewer miles, fewer stops, more breathing room. We just wrapped up our Little House on the Prairie unit and are on our way toward Maine for Sarah, Plain and Tall.

Math has been the hardest subject for me to weave in. I’ve wanted it to be fun, but it never quite stuck in our daily rhythm—until this week at a 90s-style arcade. With dice, an abacus, and “beads for money,” suddenly everyone was eager to count and track. By bedtime, each kid had earned their $5 to spend, and Karl proudly announced, “You know, a hundred is kind of like ten.” Kerstin’s now asking everyone to quiz her on math facts. Little steps, little wins.

Taking a deep breath in Michigan before the next stretch of road, hoping it feels more like a gentle swing than a whirlwind.

If you’ve explored the Northeast with little ones, I’d love your recommendations — any must-sees we shouldn’t miss?

09/25/2025

Swipe to see that final shots — a tiny reminder that adventure can live in the small stuff.

Because some places aren’t just about where you are, but who you’re with.

Minnesota started at Plum Creek, standing where Laura Ingalls Wilder once lived. Full circle for me — I first read and watched Little House on the Prairie when I was a kid, and now it’s our first roadschool unit as a family. Almost every night we curl up and stream an episode. The storylines aren’t always easy, but watching together feels grounding.

My favorite souvenir? My 4-year-old daughter and I got matching bonnets at the museum store — we’re both obsessed 🥰

Next, we camped at Lebanon Hills near Minneapolis. At the Jensen Lake Trailhead playground, two families met: my cousin’s grown kids (21, 27, 29) and mine (8, 6, 4, 1). We picnicked, played hide-and-seek, and just were. Laughter flowed, little quirks popped up, and I felt that deep thread of belonging. Thunder rolled in like a gentle bell — pause, savor, let it sink in.

The next sunny day, my little family biked to the Minnesota Zoo. (Shoutout to my 4-year-old, who tried riding solo before happily climbing back into the trailer 💪🚴‍♀️). The zoo surprised me — wide spaces, thoughtful exhibits — and somewhere between the tropics, wolves, and playgrounds, I swapped stories with my cousin. He’s writing fantasy novels, I just finished a memoir. Different genres, same creative spark.

Life is made of these small, meaningful moments. Pause, notice the joy around you, and connect with the people you love.

The final photo is one of my favorites: three of us deep in a math game on the picnic bench, while baby Arvid explores one of our RV’s headlights.

Jennica Joyce Yoga

11/09/2025

11/01/2025

10/28/2025

10/25/2025

10/23/2025

10/21/2025

10/11/2025

10/01/2025

09/27/2025

09/25/2025

Address

Opening Hours

Website

Alerts

Contact The Practice

Shortcuts

Share

Category