Ever since I gave birth to my daughter six months ago, my friends have had no problems locating my apartment.

'Look out for the balcony with the baby laundry,' I'd tell them when they visit.

Before I had my baby, anyone who wanted to hang anything out to dry on my balcony would have to do it over my dead body.

My apartment was, at least in my mind, decor magazine-worthy - fully colour-coordinated, texture-compatible, with not one chaise longue leg out of place.

But motherhood turns many things upside down. First hit was the No. 1 rule in stylish home-decorating - never, ever, hang your laundry on the balcony.

It's easy enough if your household comprises only adults, and all your washing can be aired in the laundry area.

But a baby yields a daily wash-load which is equivalent to that of two burly rugby players - soiled shirts and pants, endless towels, handkerchiefs, bedsheets, swaddling cloth and a million mittens and booties.

Sleep-deprived and hormone-imbalanced, I gave in when my mother started hanging the baby laundry out on the balcony where there's direct sunlight.

In fact, the clothes dried so fast and efficiently that I started hanging my parachute-sized nursing bras and trampoline-like underpants there too.

Yummy Mummy? Of course. Just don't look at my laundry line.

There are other changes too. Formerly an out-and-about food writer who relished the fast life, I could stay at home for weeks on end because that's where my baby is.

Things that had mattered a lot suddenly became trivial - the next promotion, the partying life, the new American Idol.

(Okay, the sagging boobs took quite a few weeks to get over.)

Mostly, I find that motherhood has given me courage on several fronts.

During my pregnancy, I had wondered if I could give up a memorable 12-year journalism career to stay home and raise my child. Now, I can say confidently: No problem.

This week, I return to work as a part-time copy-editor. No more glamour or salary that I had so hinged my identity on before. No more event launches, free meals or invitations to judge contests.

But at least I get to see my baby grow up.

Motherhood has also given me the courage to realise my long-held dream of becoming a baker.

Before, I was too cowed to get started: no prestige, small profits, so un-Sex And The City. But things are different now.

Will people actually come all the way to pick up cakes from a stay-at-home baker? It's worth a shot.

One thing's for sure. They'd know which one is my apartment.

This article was first published in Urban, The Straits Times on May 8, 2008.