One quick note: This is great. Women are victims of domestic abuse because they refuse to be good Christians and submit to their husbands. And according to the op/ed, I'm going to heaven, because I've given birth. So there.

Anyway, this weekend, D was a saint and offered to go to Ikea with me and the midgets. And no, we didn't trek to Chicago, because there's a brand-new store in West Chester, Ohio! And, my friend, that is only about 2 hours away. And how did everything go? Pretty good. Not a total disaster, but the kids will not be going to Ikea again. At least not together, and not with me.

But we got some SPIFFY stuff. The bathroom sink downstairs (a sad little sink, with zero charm, less efficiency, and no storage) in our house was looking like it was about to fall off the wall, was so low that LPT could reach just fine without a step stool, and the handles for the water were so hard to turn on and off that there was a stream of water left running every time LPT washed her hands. Something had to be done. So D and I bit the bullet and bought a new sink, cabinet, and faucet.

And then we decided that we would become plumbers. As a result, the sink is almost functional, (the pipes were just a skosh too short.) and I have a blister on my finger. Good times. But the bathroom already looks 100% better.

Another side note, falling into the "Kids say the darndest things" category: The family is snuggling in (our) bed this morning, and apparently my shirt had ridden up, exposing my stomach under the covers. I feel little feet on my tummy, then Lil' Puddin' Tater says, "Mommy, I can feel your wrinkles. On your tummy. Pull your shirt down."