Lately, I’ve been trying to figure out what the next year will look like. Maternity leave – full-time mommyhood.

Full-time with our little milkface and the notorious 24-hour day, during which there is no distinction between day and night. It’s pretty surreal. I feel like a dog with an electronic collar.

I get zapped if I wander too far from my owner.

We spent the last few days snowbound in Shediac with Justin’s parents, which of all the places to be snowbound must be the best. I had just put Evan down for sleep after a feeding, and was about to select from one of my sleeping-baby-approved activities:

• Sleep
• OR eat
• OR drink water
• OR wash self
• OR dress self
• (...UNTIL baby wakes)

Then Justin came to me with his coat on and said, “Quick! Mom needs butter and beer, and we’ve got the cellphone. Let's go!” … and off to the grocery store we went. Our first time leaving the baby.

It was weeeird.

Me and my husband, driving in the truck. Me with no belly. Us with no baby. Not even a carseat in sight. We could almost imagine none of it had ever happened.

Justin asked if we should make a break for Mexico.

We got the butter and the beer and drove down to the public wharf for no reason, just because we could. We returned inside of half an hour to find Evan sleeping soundly under the expert ear of Grammy Dianne. And so passed our first baby-free adventure.

Sometimes I feel claustrophobic with my new collar.

I want to roam, cruise the neighbourhood with my other doggy buddies, find a few new sniffs and get into trouble at the dump. But my owner prefers me to stay close and behave. My life is divided into two-hour chunks, and that’s on the best of days. If I leave, I have to be ready to dash back panting and stressed, knowing a hungry Evan is feeling abandoned by his new pet.

Even if this new life sometimes feels a little restrictive (understatement of the year…?), I'm unconditionally devoted, no matter what he dishes out. No matter how ragged I get.