Super Bowl, Pooper Bowl

Since I have become a mother, I have given up many things; my figure, my sanity, my sex life, and the entire first quarter of the Super Bowl last night. Yes, people, it is true...I missed a ton of the good commercials. 

Pookie is potty training, and she's doing fantastic! She had her first potty poop the other day, which prompted her to run around the house with the potty bowl, showing off her poopy. She was so proud! I even sent a picture of said poop in a mass text to everyone I know. Hey, I was proud too!

Her successful poop the other day has lit a major fire within her; she is seriously determined to have a repeat poop. This is what led to missing the first quarter last night. It was about ten minutes to six when Pookie shouted that she had to poo. We had guests arriving any second, but I figured W could handle it, so Pookie and I went into the bathroom. She took her spot on the potty, while I sat on the toilet seat, and we waited.

A few minutes passed before I asked her if she really had to go. Yeah, mommy, pooooooo. Ok, babe. A few more minutes pass; I hear the laughter and jovial good cheer of our guests. I need to talk to someone that is not my husband. I really want to get my hands on that taco dip I made. It's hot in here. Come on, babe, let's try again later. Nooooooooooo, poooooooooo. I weighed my options- do I yank her off the potty and subject everyone to blood-curling screams, or let her sit a little longer in hopes of diffusing the inevitible Psychotic Toddler Syndrome?

I let her try a little longer, of course. I didn't want to scare people away. I need some social interaction, damn it! She stares me down, I stare back. We are now engaged in a poop face-off, and I'm not sure how this will end. I break the stare-down and whip out my phone to do a little Facebook stalking. I'm reading status updates when I notice that her head starts bobbing up and down. Yes, my friends, she passed out on the potty. I call for my husband; we capture the moment on both video and photo to use as blackmail at a later date. He picks her up, puts a diaper on her, and she wakes up long enough to look at her Daddy as if he is rescuing her from some evil woman holding her hostage. Not fair! I do all the grunt work (pun intended), and Daddy is the rock star! Figures.

Oh well, at least I got to eat my taco dip.