Motherhood through the eyes of a recovering workaholic

I never liked children. I'd tolerate them if friends of mine had any. I'd smile and do the coochicoochicoo sounds that are standard greet and meet etiquette when being introduced to one, but that was as far as i'd go.

I never really got what all the fuss was about. And it never bothered me. Because that wasn't what I wanted. I was heading in a different dirrection. I was a full fledged, qualified journalist who was set to change the world ... in between lychee martinis and coffee catch up sessions with the girls - the ones without children.

Somewhere on my way to the top, I got sidelined by a rockstar. You know that typical story: girl meets rock dude, girl manipulates rock dude into relationship ...

We ended up getting married (not exactly on my pre-university graduation list of things to do). But this hard hitting entertainment journalist wasn't about to sacrifice her note pad for a Martha Stewart cook book any time soon. Hell no.

A job that sent me to Japan to interview Bon Jovi and Fergie, then Los Angeles to interview INXS and Avril Lavigne, then Bangkok to do Black Eyed Peas ... trips to Singapore almost twice a month to review the Norah Jones concert, attend the MTV Asia Awars etc ...

My life was a huge blur of airports, hotel rooms, interviews, celebrities, v.i.p parties and the subsequent morning after hangover - and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

How to prepare the perfect pot roast was not on the cards. I was still searching for that perfect onboard travel bag.

And then I got knocked up. Four home pregnancy tests (of different brands), an official ultrasound, and many, many, many tears later - and there was no more denying it - I was six weeks pregnant.

I don't buy into all this 'we' got pregnant crap. Does the MAN get the swollen feet, the back ache, the acid reflux, the flatullence? Does the MAN go through labour, get the epidural needle hammered into their spine? Does the MAN squeeze out a watermelon through a hole the size of an egg? NO. There's no WE in pregnancy.

I accepted that I was going to have one of those children. I accepted that I would have to quit work for a while to look after said child. I even accepted that I had to stop smoking and drinking coffee ... for a while anyway.

But would I even like it? Would it like me? What happens if we don't like each other? And even if it grew on me, could i learn to love it if it didn't turn out nice looking? From what I was told - and this came as a shock - babies didn't come with a warranty or refund guarantee. You couldn't exchange babies for an item of the same or lesser price ... can you imagine that? I think there could really be a market for a 'Baby Exchange' forum.

Isabel was born in October 2007.
She just turned 1 year old last week.
As for accepting my new 'stay at home mum' role and learning to like each other ...it's all still very, very much a work in progress.
There are some days I just don't get her. She's hungry, then she plays with her food. She's tired, but she refuses to sleep. She's just so indecisive.
I know she's just one, but is that my fault?

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