Health

I am a better person in the summer than I am in the winter. I mean, I’m not a bitch between November and February, but I’m definitely happier, lighter, and more of a glass-half-full kind of person in the summertime. The scorching sun hits my body and all of the pessimistic bitterness of winter melts away.

Every night, after 6:30 p.m., I am effectively a prisoner in my own house. I have a four-month-old baby who lays his little self down in my arms and closes his eyes at exactly 6:30 p.m. There are no more spontaneous trips out to see a band or late-night runs to the grocery store. My husband works late, so it’s just me and my sleeping baby boy in the house most nights. The little man and I have found a rhythm, and as the fog of new motherhood has lifted, I have discovered something I never could have anticipated. I found my freedom.

I knew I loved East Nashville for its sidewalks, ripe with block parties and chance meetings. I knew I loved it for the constant flow of young couples with strollers, and the countless dog walkers, the beautiful people with beautiful puppies.

It is 11 p.m. I’m achy from my workout yesterday and feeling pretty good about it. I ate well today, except for three large squares of chocolate from the Pound Plus Trader Joe’s 72% Dark Chocolate bar after dinner. My waistline is blissfully unencumbered by elastic-waist, cotton and spandex yoga pants. I didn’t get out for my three-mile walk today because I snoozed on the couch instead. My 10-week-old baby is going to wake up in an hour or two to eat. Another glass of wine would be nice … and maybe a snack. Some of my husband’s peanut butter cereal, perhaps? God, what I wouldn’t give for a hit of Red Velvet from Cupcake Collection right about now …

There isn’t much that I love more than a wedding. I got married over three years ago, but I can still be found covertly recording "Say Yes To the Dress" on my DVR every Friday night. It’s a sickness, really, but there is something so alluring about the romance of it all.

After dodging pregnancy for my entire adult life, I am pregnant. Glee is not the word I would use to describe my reaction to this news; stunned silence is more like it. When I saw that second glaring line show up on that little pink stick, everything stopped.