Always something more to be grateful for

Funny how a new place always brings new blessings and new opportunities. Yes, moving can be scary. But as a former military kid, child of divorced parents and as one who had a somewhat free-wheeling young adulthood, I have moved over 20 times and I can tell you that moving can be an amazing opportunity for renewal, growth and discovery.

For me, moving to Texas was life-changing. My marriage strengthened. My faith strengthened. I became a healthier, more balanced person whose time and energy allocation reflected her values.

Now, it seems, Louisiana is bringing me delicious little blessings anew.

It's been two years and a few months since I made a lifestyle change. Committing to fitness was a decision that was a long time coming and, like most folks, my journey is/was laden with a complicated web of emotion.

As a wife and mom, one of the major motivators for my transition was that I wanted to be a better me for my family. The strange thing is that my family kind of complicated things. My husband is not really into fitness. He's always been naturally slim and active in the "I played ball in school" kind of way. My younger son is also naturally thin and he is also naturally active -- playing outside, etc.

My 12 year old has my bone structure, my father's build, and my natural reluctance to physical exertion. He also has my love for food. And so, it seems, he's inherited my predisposition toward collecting and hoarding weight. When I caught the fitness bug, he was sure to keep his distance -- didn't want to risk catching it, ya know.

Like many parents who start this journey hoping to be a role model, I have found myself saddened by a new quandary. How to help my child understand the value of all we are and all we've worked to become and understand the importance of personal development.

I'm not one for sugar coating: Being overweight isn't okay and it's not cool. It also doesn't make you a bad person any more than any other unhealthy choice does. So how do I convey the need to feel good about himself at the same time I convey the need to work on areas that could make his quality of life better?

While many facets of my life were amazing in Texas, this one fact -- my son's personal battle with weight, activity and eating habits -- tugged at my heart strings.

It's true. He has developed into a kind person who is considerate of others and who has learned how to balance his emotions, engage the world respectfully and conduct himself with integrity. When I call this kid a rockstar, I am not overstating his indisputable awesomeness. Still, I know a little something about weight and the truth is, people shy away from activity and overindulge in food for a reason. As his mom, that's what I'm interested in helping him with next.

Of course, when you are 12 and male, your mom is probably dead last on the list of folks you want to talk fitness with. My son is no exception. Unfortunately, my hubby is a team sports guy and my son is not, so that's a dead end. For my love of Beachbody, he hasn't found a perfect fit in the Bb family. And my gym in Texas required him to be in the kids club (nursery) till 12. Upon his 12th birthday, he was released into general population & I am cool, but not quite that cool! He's still my baby & there is no way he's going out there to fend for himself on the fitness floor.

So whodathunkit? Life brings us to Youngsville, Louisiana and the big gym here is a little place called Red Lerille's Health & Racquet Club. This gym has a workout facility for kids from 9-12 so BOTH my sons can establish a healthy appreciation for fitness. There are basketball courts that kids can use (the ones at my old gym were there, but they were often contracted out to groups for practice and my kids were too young to use it anyway). I'm not sure if you can see it, but there's an indoor track that borders it on the second level. Again, I'm cool, but not that cool. Gotta get my mommy-stalk on!

There is a conditioning room just for kids from 9 -12 that has treadmills, stair masters, medicine balls, a TRX (OMg!), staffed conditioning hours (included with membership) and even kettle bells and Nautilus machines (for later). And there are pools with open areas to swim -- like with an actual stroke -- in open water.

Click here for more photos of Red's.

This place is insane & it's more than I could have ever dreamed of. More than I knew to hope for. It's crazy to think that I could discover my heart's desire here, in very last place I could have ever expected. As you move through your day -- through your life -- I encourage you to remember the amazing possibilities that exist for you if you keep your heart open and trust in the infinite possibilities.

Here's to a new chapter in family and fitness. Can't wait to keep you posted!

Settling In - Youngsville, LA Part 1

Okay, it might just be me, but when I move to a new place I have a (secret) internal social scavenger hunt that starts up. It will probably sound nutz and I may be completely alone, but it's true. When I have satisfied this list, it's like I can finally take a deep breath and cozy in to my new digs.

The funny thing is that I didn't realize that I do it until today. You might just share this little quirk, who knows. Here is a quick recap of mine.

I drove into downtown Lafayette (which is kind of an oxymoron, but whatevs, it is what it is) to find dirty gas stations, Church's chicken restarants and narrow streets. Cool, I think, that's like Ybor City -- hometown digs. Of course, here no one is speaking Spanish.

As I moved into Youngsville, things got country. Real country. I'm talking beaters, jalopies and frame houses nestled in sugar cane fields. Cool, I think, my family is from Groveland and Wildwood. Been here, done this.

I pull into my street and I start to feel my lungs constricting. I don't know this mix. Not personally, at least. There are turn of the century homes, 1960 ranch style (like mine), what looks to be an antebellum mansion diagonally behind me and a row of mobile homes scattered in the mix.

Um. I don't know about this.

As the day progresses, I see random dogs running up and down their property and shirtless barefoot kids throwing rocks for fun.

Um. I don't know about this.

There are other things that make me feel uneasy, like I am most certainly not in Kansas (or Texas or Florida to be more precise) anymore. Things that remind me that not only am I in the country, but I am in the deep South, like folks that seem alien in style, presence and possibly even mindset.

I start to feel like I can't breathe. What have I done? Where have I brought my family? I think of pressing questions, you know, the truly important stuff like where will I go to get my eyebrows thredded?

In the midst of my panic, we lunch in Southeast Lafayette. At McAlister's. Heck there is a McAlister's in Southlake. My friend Robin's husband works for them. McAlister's is in the Target shopping plaza. I know Target! 

I waltz in, partially to get home stuff, partially to fulfill my need for the familiar, and it happens. I see a woman in workout clothes with three rambunctous boys orbiting her cart. Okay, people workout here. Check. I still haven't found a single gym with group ex, but these folks are working out somewhere & it's only a matter of time.

I see another with hombre-dyed hair, tan skin and a maxi tube top dress. Style. Check. I see a third chatting on a cell phone, her nails are done and she's mentioning grabbing sushi for lunch. Sushi. Check!

I see another African American woman with what appear to be threaded brows and a great hair cut (yes, silly stuff like that matters & no, it's not racist. I think it's normal to want to see your own identity mirrored in your environment.). I stalk her and get her stylist's information. Hair stylist. Check!

No dice on the threading, but it's early & hope springs eternal.

Somewhere between the bath mats & the broom, I feel my chest relax and my shoulders fall just a bit. This town may be foreign in a million ways but there are many, many things that feel like home.

As I exit the store, I look up and see a family: African American mom, white freckled dad in khakis, and two biracial boys bouncing around the pair. I don't know them from anywhere, but I look at them, full on. They seem harried and exhausted in ways that only suffering through Target with children can cause, but that's all. They don't look oppressed or tortured or praying for a way out of this town.

I realize that this is what I've been waiting for, for assurance that every quiet fear I've had about the potential for racism in this state, this town, this move may be a challenge, but it won't be the defining experience. As my breathing shifts into a fully relaxed state I realize that I have been waiting for this final thing on my unspoken checklist.

And I know. I know it will all be fine because I've got everything I need.