Mary, Mary, quite contrary

I need a mom.

I was reading all the online stuff yesterday about how my baby is 24 weeks along now and she's as big as a (giant) mango and she can blink her eyes in Morse code if only I could see it to interpret what she means and she now has very strong opinions about the rompers she sees me buying her and the dinner I ate last night.

I realized that because my babies come early (two and five weeks early so far) that she's going to be here PDQ. We're prepared, mostly. She got stuff in the way of clothes and we're good with a crib, etc. We'll have a larger stroller by then and I'm switching our travel swing (which did nothing for Baby G) to one that goes back-and-forth AND side to side. I'm going to raid one of our retirement accounts next month and stock up on diapers and wipes. I figure if we live on nothing but Ramen the year Kenny turns 72, we should be able to afford the first month of Pampers Swaddlers, no problem.

So she's all set, or nearly.

But I'm not.

When Little J came ten years ago, I had just moved into a new place the day before. Nothing was unpacked. I didn't even have a working phone. I had to roll into the grocery store belly first at 2 a.m. to wake my doctor up and find out that yes, dummy, that was your water breaking. Go to the hospital.

My mom was on a plane within two hours of me calling her and at the hospital by the time they started my epidural. She was there through the delivery and when Little J and I got home, she had unpacked my whole house for me. It was a little house and I didn't have much stuff, but it still made it easier to breathe.

She put off work for an extra week to stay with me because (as she told me later) I wasn't exactly into picking the baby up to do anything besides feed him at first. But then everything was okay.

When Baby G was born a couple of years ago, my sister happened to be here on a fluke visit so that she was ready to jump in even though he was five weeks early. My sister is a very, very good person to have around if you're ever in the hospital for any reason from a tonsillectomy to open heart surgery. She was nearly as good as having my mom there.

But this time...

I don't know. I just need a mom. I need someone who's going to show up for a few days in a Mary Poppins-ish manner and play with my kids and either

1) Ignore the fact that some of the messy spots in my house have been neglected since before I was pregnant and either
      a) pretend like I do that they don't exist or
      b) clean them and never say a word to me about it because um, yeah, my  mom would know exactly who taught me to keep house that way

2) Scold me for having certain messy spots in my house but somehow manage to not judge me in the least and then either
      a) ignore them, like I do or
      b) clean them and never say a word to me about them

She would warm up the meals the Relief Society brought over for me and change Tiny E's tenth diaper of the day like it's her greatest delight because she can clearly see after the first nine, I've lost my enchantment with the whole process for the day.

She would take the boys to the park while I slept with Tiny E, knowing that Baby G thinks my naps mean I'm prone so we can start wrestling. She wouldn't care that Baby G gets a couple of Nickelodeon marathons while I stare into space, sleep-deprived. And after a few days she would realize I'm gaining a little traction and she'd go home, knowing that I've rejoined the land of the living and I'm child-cuddling and bum-wiping abilities have been fully restored.

My aunt, who is more my aunt even by marriage than she could be by blood, flew out from Illinois last time for a weekend a couple of months after Baby G was born. There was just something about knowing that she was willing to do that for me that made everything bearable, filled the gap a little. But she is kicking butt and taking names in  her new nursing program and I'd put her right back on a plane and ship her back if she tried to come out this time because she needs to be there, not here.

I miss my mom. Do you think if I tore this blog post into small pieces and threw it into the fireplace that the wind would whisk it away and suddenly she would appear in a smart coat with a carpet bag the morning I go to the hospital? Because I need her.