Last night I planned on going to bed early, which for me is before 10 o’clock. I curled up in bed at 9:30 with a book and made it just a few pages without falling asleep. Ahhh bliss. I should have known I’d set myself up for a good night’s sleep FAIL.

At some point right before midnight I woke up with Miss A’s face about one inch from mine and her snifffling, “Mommy I can’t bweave…my nose is ‘topped up.” Now mind you, this is a child who refused to take cherry flavored cold medicine at bedtime and I wasn’t about to argue with her at nearly midnight so I grabbed my pillow, because I am OCD about my own pillow, and padded sleepily behind her and crawled into her little twin bed waiting for her to fall asleep so I could get the heck out of there. Finally she fell back to sleep and I snuck down the hall to our room and crawled back into bed.

Then around 1:30 a.m. a thunderstorm woke me up and since it’s been kind of Auntie Em around these parts lately I decided to check my e-mail on my phone charging in the kitchen to make sure we weren’t under a warning. Thankfully we weren’t, so I sent my neurotic self back to bed and just as I was falling asleep there was a huge, and I mean huge, thunder clap.

And then I waited for it.

The clickety clack of dog nails on hardwood floors soon followed and Bailey, our old neurotic dog, was plaintively waiting by the foot of the bed. The hubby put her in bed with us since she is now too stiff to make the leap and I was pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t breathing like a freight train on crack for a change. Maybe I’d get a decent night’s sleep after all. The hubby bathed her with her special, and expensive, medicated shampoo earlier this week so perhaps it’s laced with doggy Prozac.

Unfortunately another thunder clap and flash of lightning brought Miss A back to our bedside, or I should say, my bedside. Miss C, however, was still sleeping soundly in her room, probably thanks to a dose of cough medicine right before bed.

“Mommy…I’m skeered.”

I grabbed my pillow again and assumed the position next to Miss A under her pink butterfly comforter. She fell asleep pretty quickly but then she started snoring. This was not the snore of a 38-year-old man, but of a sweet 4-year-old girl, however it was still annoying enough to prevent me from falling asleep. I headed back to our bed and Bailey was sprawled in the middle of it while the hubby snored away so I headed to the only available bed in the house with Miss C.

Thank God she wasn’t snoring.

We may all be doing a shot of cough medicine tonight.