A day and a week, it has been

I just got an email from one of my daily deal companies with the subject "Romantic Getaway in Ohio Country."  Surely, OH SURELY, I'm not the only one who thinks "Well, nothing says 'romantic' like 'Amish Country'."  AmIright? 

Yes, but those Amish have big families.  Maybe there really is something in that idea...

I've got not much of anything to report, talk about, or generally mush about other than I'm full into three classes, and life is still life-ing along.  That's a pretty vague statement.  It can refer to finding a disgustingly bloody Kleenex in my bathroom's trash can first thing in the morning (and there's nothing better than "Wake up and start your day!" than blood in any variation).  It can mean that my child has obliterated three pairs of sunglasses in less than a month (and we're ever so serious about our eye protection around this house).  It can even mean how I'm up to my gills in spreadsheets and searches and blobbity blob blobbiness (blergh). 

I snuck outside pre-dinner when the girls were happy and healthy inside by themselves.  Mind you, "snuck outside" literally means walking about 6 feet outside the door with all of the windows and the screen door open.  I found those creepy little grey oblong bugs that frequent my zucchini (and apparently gourd) plants scurrying about with their creepy little progeny and was instantly inspired to rip the whole lot of vines up and out cause OH, the CREEPINESS. 

When I walked outside, the Elder was decked out in a Cleopatra Halloween costume with the wristlets from the One-Eyed-One-Horned-Flying-Purple-People-Eater costume for good measure.  The Younger was wearing just her undies as she was doodling away with markers.

I absolutely wasn't outside more than 10-15 minutes.  (Foreshadowing, people.)

When I came back inside, the Elder was "reading" The Three Billy Goats Gruff to the Younger using her copy of the New Testament.  She had stripped down, taken off her regular clothes, and re-dressed in the Cleopatra garb.  The Younger was snuggled down under my covers and schmoozing on my pillow with the Elder sitting on top of the bed beside her.  There was blue and green marker evidence on the Younger's tongue and lips.  And, we spent a frantic couple of minute trying to find a plastic cap from one of those little bubble containers that you bring home from a wedding that had been put up on a high shelf as I was pretty well convinced that the Younger had swallowed it given the cumulative inability to really tell me where it was.  The bubbles were absolutely dumped somewhere, and for right now, the girls have gotten away with that given the scare about the cap.  Update:  I found the cap; the kid's innards weren't compromised by that, though the "non-toxic" marker is a different issue.

Why does my 3-year old persist in putting all sorts of random bits in her mouth?

And so, it's been a day and another week is almost in the books.  I, for one, need a snack.