There's a great scene in the new Sex & The City film (what? We all have our cultural references; no judgement, please!) where Charlotte and Miranda get slowly drunk and start to confess that motherhood is - er - not always a bed of roses.Despite all the other poignant and hilarious moments the film throws up, this scene is top-notch entertainment for us mothers-of-young-kids / dictators.
My friend Sophie and I didn't look at each other in the darkness of the movie theatre... but I could hear some distinct sniffing in between the bursts of laughter.
How great to hear my old pals (yes, I am referring to Char and Miranda) voicing the very thoughts that creep guiltily through my own mind from time to time*
Thoughts that run something like this: I love them so much they drive me mad I love them so much I can't wait to get five minutes away from them I love them so much can I please please be the one to do the food shopping - this is how I relax now I love them so much... etc, etc.
Yes, we're all growing up alongside those Sex & The City girls. Same dilemmas, same hopes, better clothes.
And I know it's just a film, and it's all tailor-made to appeal to us thirty-something women, and all the rest... but despite that, I still feel eternally grateful to be living in a century where it's OK to be an independent woman, it's OK to say your kids drive you crazy (sometimes), it's OK to aspire to non-maternal fulfilment, it's OK to leave the kids with Dad and go out to see a film with the girls. Every week if necessary.
* practically every day
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