Whining, Wine-ing & Winning

The Berniece Chronicles – Episode 2

Berniece had finally convinced her two-year-old, Bee, that nighttime was for sleeping… not for performing Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes like she was opening for a concert.

The house was quiet.

Bee was asleep.

The dogs were asleep.

Berniece had just drifted into what felt like the best sleep she’d had all week.

And then every phone in the house exploded with a weather alert.

SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WARNING.

Perfect.

Berniece sat straight up in bed while alarms screamed from every direction like the weather itself had personally decided she wasn’t getting any rest.

Cue the dogs.

Now Barley? Barley does perfectly fine in thunderstorms.

She’s the gold-star dog.

She listens.

She behaves.

She only barks when someone knocks on the door… or when my husband gets home from work.

Barley handles storms like a mature adult.

Then there’s our other dog.

Rumple.

That name alone should tell you what kind of rebel he can be.

Rumple doesn’t listen well.

He barks at ladybugs.

He believes every squirrel in the neighborhood is a personal enemy.

And he hates thunderstorms.

This storm hadn’t even started yet. You couldn’t hear thunder.

But Rumple heard it.

Somehow.

The barking started.

Then the pacing.

Then the whining.

Then the dramatic sighing like he had personally checked the radar and knew the end was near.

The storm crept closer.

The barking got louder.

The pacing got faster.

The whining became a full-time job.

Then the storm rolled in.

Now the whole house is awake.

Rumple is a nervous wreck. And at this point the only way to calm him down is letting him get in the bed with us.

And of course, it wouldn’t be fair if Rumple got to sleep in the bed and Barley didn’t.

So now it’s a party of five.

Two adults.

Two dogs.

And Bee, who sleeps sideways like a starfish with zero concern for the other people in the bed.

The two people who actually own the bed are now offered a small sliver of mattress.

There are no blankets because the dogs are on top of them.

One dog weighs about 80 pounds.

The other weighs about 50.

Poor Berniece.

Trying to stay calm.

Trying to stay quiet.

Eventually the storm passed.

But not before Rumple had fully processed every thunderclap like it was a personal betrayal.

Berniece finally drifted back to sleep somewhere around dawn.

Which would have been great…

If the storm hadn’t lasted until 10 a.m.

And if that hadn’t been the one day of the week Bee goes to daycare.

Morning arrived with the emotional stability of a live grenade.

Bee did not want to get ready.

Elmo needed to come to daycare.

Elmo could not come to daycare.

This was unacceptable.

The new shoes were wrong.

The pink shirt was suddenly the only acceptable shirt in existence.

Leggings for dance class were rejected.

Sweatpants were demanded.

Tears were shed.

Negotiations were attempted.

Berniece had slept approximately 37 minutes and was now mediating a crisis between Bee, a stuffed animal, and a wardrobe.

Meanwhile the dogs — who had kept everyone awake all night — were peacefully passed out like they had worked a double shift at the hospital.

And somewhere between the thunderstorm, the barking, the sideways Bee, the Elmo negotiations, and the wardrobe battle…

Berniece learned something.

Sometimes the storm wakes the dogs.

The dogs wake Bee.

Bee wakes the house.

And sometimes…

you Bern and you learn.

📺 The Berniece Chronicles

⬅ Previous Episode: Hot Flashes, Brain Fog & Berniece
➡ Next Episode: Berniece Battles Northeast Kansas

📺 Catch up on all episodes: The Berniece Chronicles