It’s a bittersweet day for me. My son, my sweet hilarious wiggly huge devoted cuddly tiny boy, is five months old today. It’s also my first Mother’s Day since he was born. Last year on this day I was eight weeks pregnant, and Malcolm was the size of a kidney bean, so the whole “gonna be a mom” thing wasn’t super real to me yet. Today is also my seventh Mother’s Day without my own mom. I had to calculate that number, seven, several times because it just doesn’t seem right that it’s been that long. It’s not right. I wasn’t ready at 29 to lose her and 35 doesn’t make it any easier. So, the day is complicated. More than anything I wish she could be here to meet Malcolm Linden, his middle name chosen for his Grandma Linda. And that’s every day, of course, not just this Hallmark holiday. But the day brings stuff up. I am so lucky that I had such a great mom: fiercely intelligent, witty, strong, and utterly devoted to us. And I’m grateful to my little guy for making me a mom.