Yesterday I had my first routine baby check up appointment which meant that I got to drive 40 minutes each way so that I could be robbed of some bodily fluids and sent back out the door 20 minutes later.

In case you lovely stalkers readers are curious, Cletus was a happy little fetus with a 140 per minute heartbeat and I was happy little mommy having only gain about 7 pounds so far. Of course, I blame at least 8 of those pounds on the Panera half sandwich I ate right before the appointment.

I also learned that I am “very NOT anemic” which apparently is good and is totally ironic since Mr. Bee has a huge problem with being anemic. Once again, our powers combined would create a normal (and kick-ass Jeopardy contestant) person.

The nurse and doctor didn’t make a huge deal about it, but I’m pretty sure my high iron levels means that I am a super hero. Obviously that means that my skeleton must be encased in iron like Wolverine. Surely, they wouldn’t want to alert me to the situation in case I am prone to leaning towards the villain side of things.

Which really, with all these pregnancy hormones, is highly likely.

I am also planning on blaming my newly discovered abnormality on my compulsive laziness. No wonder I’m tired all the time. Iron is heavy, yo.

But I promise to use my powers only for good. As long as I am provide a steady supply of Little Ceasar’s Crazy Bread, that is.

This prego’s got needs.

Song title: Check up on My Baby by Eddy Clearwater