Those of you lucky enough to parent a threenager won’t be surprised to learn that yesterday my daughter made me cry. I’m often driven to tears by my wondrous little terror; of laughter, frustration and sometimes, actual physical pain (toddler teeth and nails can be surprisingly sharp). But yesterday was different – because my daughter asked me, “where’s YOUR mummy gone?” and I felt the tears creeping down my face. This month marks nine years since a sudden heart attack snatched my mother away from us and the first time my daughter, Lala, has asked about the grandmother she’ll never know. Yet again, the reality of being a mother has brought the loss of my own home to me. My mother died when I was 25, long before I started to think about having children, so I’m haunted by the questions I never asked her. Being a mother is without question the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I desperately regret not taking the time to ask her how she managed to pull it off …