If Eugenio doesn't know about something, he quickly dismisses it with, "Well, we don't have that in Mexico" or "In Mexico...."

I sent my sister the baby shower address list that I've been working on for the past few days, and now he chimes in with his suggestions. "Oh we should invite so and so and so and so."

"I already sent Molly the list. If you want to invite them, I need their addresses soon."

"Just send them that email you made."

"That's just a save-the-date Evite."

"That's fine. They don't need an invitation."

"But it says, "invitation to follow." They'll be expecting an invitation."

"Bah! Whatever. They won't know. We don't have that in Mexico."

"Just because you've never seen it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Until five minutes ago, you didn't know what fresh spinach was. I guarantee you there's spinach in Mexico."

A few weeks ago he came out with this gem as we argued about whether or not I was eating an orange: "Well in Mexico the oranges only have four slices."  I know what he's thinking: Boom. End of discussion. Yeah, OK. 

I feel guilty relaying these tales considering he's out buying me a McFlurry. To be fair, I don't know anything. And I didn't get the phrase "birthday suit" until about two years ago. I always thought it was like, he's so happy it's his birthday, he's going to go naked. Then at the tender age of 26 I finally understood -- birth day, when you come into the world naked. OOOOOHHHHHHHHH. HA HA!

Right up there with pictures of unlikely animal friendships -- the monkey hugging the dog, the rat cuddling with the kitten, those sorts -- in heart melting factor, is watching your significant other pick out clothing for your unborn child. Among others, Eugenio chose a onesie that says, "Daddy's little girl." It's so bizarre, these teeny-tiny outfits hanging in our closet.

We were wrong. It's a girl. Eugenio didn't pick that onesie because he thought it'd look great on Nikolai. Speaking of which, I can stop antagonizing Eugenio by referring to the carrot length babe inside of me -- this week at least, I don't know what vegetable she'll be compared to next -- by the name he hates. Leading up to the anatomy scan last week, I kept telling everyone that now that we've been referring to it as "he" and telling everyone we think it's a boy, it would be perfect to learn that it's actually not. And lo and behold...

We didn't have any preference either way, but I'm surprised by my reaction. I cried silently to myself after the ultrasound tech announced the gender and we saw for ourselves that it was unmistakeably female. My sister Molly says she doesn't believe it, adding that our mother put a curse on all of us. She would always say, "In my next life, I'm having all boys." My niece was the only one vocal about a gender preference. She's been wanting a girl cousin for years. When I first brought Eugenio to meet my family about four years ago, the first thing she said, just breaking the ice, was, "Are you two going to have kids? I really want another cousin," by which she meant of the female variety as she was surrounded by boys. I'm not interested in all the gender reveal parties and announcements that are popular now, but I did announce over Facebook by telling Brit I was happy to announce she was finally getting that girl cousin.

Eugenio: Did you eat all the gummy bears?

Me: The baby did.

I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep. The baby was up and kicking too. I'm sure everyone says this, but it's my favorite, such an awesome feeling. I'll be 20 weeks on Monday and the baby is kicking and thumping around a lot now. Eugenio can feel it too when he touches my stomach and we can even see it when I lift my shirt. I'm a little worried about how my stomach is possibly going to grow and stretch for 20 more weeks. I've been googling pictures of 35 to 40 week pregnant bellies to prepare myself for the destruction ahead. I saw one that almost made me cry until I noticed she was having triplets. 

I had a dream about my mom last night. She came back to life and I was talking to her and crying about the way she died. In my dream, when she knew she was about to die, she asked me to take her to this river or lake where we floated on a raft and then I let her go under -- something like the scene in Titanic. This was her request, to go peacefully. (Because drowning is always peaceful? Dreams are weird.) When she was gone, like 20 seconds later, I felt panicked and went under to try to bring her back but couldn't find her anywhere. In my dream life afterwards, I felt so guilty and remorseful that I did the wrong thing, that I shouldn't have let her go. And then somehow, years, or I really don't know how long later, she came back and we were discussing her passing. She comforted me and assured me that I did the right thing. I was so indescribably happy to see her again -- in my dream and in waking life. To crudely analyze, I've always felt guilty, as most do after the death of a loved one, about everything -- like I wasn't there enough and obsessing over any mean or selfish thing I ever said or did. That guilt never really goes away, even though I know my mom wasn't harboring any resentment.

Even when they are somber and awful, I love dreaming about my mom because I feel like I get to see and experience her again. I get so sad now wishing she were here; that desire is always lurking, but it's a more pronounced feeling when I'm going through any major life changes. I'm sad that Eugenio never got to meet her. She would have loved him dearly and he would have loved her. I'm sad my kids won't get to experience her as grandma. She slipped into the spoiler role with my niece a little too easily; it was fun and horrifying to watch.  I have so many pregnancy related questions to ask her and experiences to share with her. The woman had 7 kids! When I was whining about something, she always said, "Did I ever mention how painful it was to give birth to you?" I would only respond, "Well I didn't ask to be born." But now I would say, "Do tell! And tell me about all the others too."

I'd also like to know how in the world, after 7 kids, she had not one stretch mark. Please let my stomach skin be that elastic!

Picking up the Poise pads (alliteration, ugh.) from the table as I unload the groceries, Eugenio asks concerned, "What are these for?"

"For when I pee myself."

"For when you cough," he says with a little too much delight.

"Exactly. Cough, sneeze, laugh...." I trail off.

Pregnancy is going well. I'm glowing, y'all. Shine bright like a diamond.