To date this single, non-threatening can of pork n beans has contained the most power to keep this insomnamomma up all night. It started out innocently enough-an easy side to go with that night’s dinner. Then, after the 8 o’ clock feeding, the true power of the beans was unleashed.
Crying, no no no, screaming broke out 9 PM. A scream unlike any other. A scream to end all screams. And it went on…and on…and on… After two hours of this, it was decided: my precious baby boy has colic! This assumption seemed completely natural because why would I have any reason to suspect the masked culprit-3 bites of pork n beans from dinner?
This led to the never-ending night. There would be no sleep…for anyone (including our 3 year old daughter).
4 AM: Sweet daughter pokes me in the eye (we don’t know why she does this, but eye poking is kind of her thing), waking me from the only 5 minutes of glorious REM I had that night, and asks, “mommy, what’s wrong with my brother?” Her voice carries the tone of a teenager, and I laugh to myself thinking this is the first of many times I will hear this question.
After 10 hours of fighting the invisible powers of fiber, the crying subsided, I took a nap, and as I throw away the morning’s fifth k cup, I see the villain staring up at me from the trash can and it all makes horrific sense.
Placing my hand over my heart, I, insomnamom, do solemnly swear to never, under any circumstances, eat pork n beans again, as long as I nurse (and maybe longer due to the emotional scarring).
The worst part is: they’re not even that good!