I was at a little social gathering last night where the conversation turned to blogs, and so I joined the fray and mentioned that I'm a blogger. In no time at all a new acquaintance and I were comparing notes on who we read and love. And when another woman joined the conversation, the first woman responded to the "What sorts of blogs do you read?" question with "Well, I know it's awful to put it this way and people hate being called this, but what I really love are the mommyblogs."

I've talked about this label before and won't belabor the issue, but suffice it to say that I assured these women that I, personally, have no problems with claiming the title of mommyblogger. I went on to talk (probably at great length) (shut up) about the serious issues I've seen mommybloggers tackle, and how most great mommyblogs are about so much more than diapers and soccer games.

What I didn't say -- and now sort of wish I had -- is that I wasn't trying to explain away the more mundane and "mommified" kinds of writing. Yes, some moms are activists and dreamers and planners and involved in greatness apart from the business of raising little humans, and I love reading about that, but let's face it: Sometimes you just go to your favorite mom's blog for a little dose of "I'm okay, you're okay." Sometimes you just want a bit of solidarity when it comes to being somewhat at the mercy of terrorists who insist on calling you Mommy.

Yes, sometimes mommyblogs are deep and profound and touch on the very core of the human condition.

And sometimes mommyblogs are about poop. I submit that that has its place, as well. (For me, that place is somewhere in either the "better you than me" or "I'm so glad that part of my life is over" category, but why split hairs?)

This is the part where the squeamish should stop reading and go have a snack. Those of you who can appreciate a scatological chuckle from moms telling it like it is, keep reading.

So. Potty training. Every mom has to do it at some point, and every mom I know has had someone greet the "we're potty training" news with a story about their kid (or their neighbor's kid, or their cousin's step-mother's friend's kid) who potty trained overnight and never had a single accident. Do you want to hear the story of the perfect child, or do you want to hear the stories of real kids who perhaps did not get the memo that they should not only be willing but infallible?

That's what I thought.

Over at Manic Mommies, Kristin girded herself to fight to good fight just this morning:

It's 8:30 am on Saturday, September 15th. Potty training is on.

Whoops. Sophie just pooped in her first pair of training pants.

It's going to be a very long weekend.

(Sometimes you don't have to say much to say it all, you know? Good luck, Kristin! We're rooting for you! Er, we're rooting for Sophie!)

Sometimes the defining moment is the one where we're able to laugh at ourselves. Even those of us who talk incessantly about our kids can recognize that maybe the world isn't quite as invested in each moment as we might be. And that moment of realization is, in and of itself, a very mommy moment.

The I'mPerfect Mom is dryly acknowledging the potty importance at her house:

I've been potty training Skyler. And so far, she's done pretty well in the "tell Mommy when you wanna make a poo" department.

In fact, she's volunteered to do more, such as clean herself with 50-feet of toilet paper (and STILL managing to get poop everywhere else but). Plus Sky wants to sit on the Big Girl toilet and not the $20 glorified bucket we'd gotten her.

[...]

She's still having problems feeling the need to tell me before she wees but I expect that to take more time. Just a few days ago, she did say, "Mommy, wee wee coming!" and of course I was so pleased I had to put that on my Facebook. This mother thing is just non-stop, isn't it?

(You have to love a woman who puts potty progress on Facebook and then makes fun of herself for doing so on her blog. I'm just sayin'.)

Rarely Home Mom says she's starting over at the beginning with her potty-resistant son, complete with whatever bribery it takes. She walks her son through the store, offering to buy him every item he expresses interest in, on the condition that it be a potty reward. He recants every time he hears this condition, until finally:

"Mom. They have Dora cereal! And Little Einsteins! And MICKEY MOUSE! They have MICKEY MOUSE CEREAL! I want it, mom! I really want it!"

"OKAY! That's awesome, Jacob! You pick any cereal you want, and each time you poop in the potty, you get some! Which one do you want!?!"

"Umph. I just don't want cereal anymore. And I don't want cars or play do and I don't want to poop in the potty ever again."

Darn, I think. Darn, darn, darn! The last time, this worked exactly how it was supposed to. Most importantly, it worked! And now he won't even pick a reward!

A bit further down the aisle, he saw yogos. And threw 2 boxes into the cart when he thought I wasn't looking.

"Jake, I saw that."

"I want Yo-gos."

"You can have them if you poop in the potty. Or else I'm putting them back on the shelf."

"Okay! I'll poop in the potty! And then I'll get yogos!"

But before he poops in the potty, I may just stick my head in the bowl and flush.

(Now seems like a good time to share an invaluable bit of parental wisdom: Whatever works, Rarely Home Mom. I salute you.)

Most often, it's a case of the child being less than willing while mom struggles to build enthusiasm for being a big kid. But occasionally, it's a problem of excess enthusiasm, as Kristen from Mommy Needs a Cocktail recently discovered:

E: I go potty BEFORE, Mama. I pooped.
K: When?
E: Dis morning.
K: 6 hours ago?
E: YEEEESSSS, MAMA. I go poop before.
K: (looking in the little potty and not seeing any poop) So where did it go?
E: Dare, Mama.

And oh, so slowly, I turned to find a large turd in the sink.

Wedged under the stopper.

Smelling faintly of Milk and Honey soap but mostly of crap.

Apparently he hadn't gotten the memo that you dump the poop from the little toilet into the big toilet and THEN, and ONLY THEN, do you wash out the little potty.

(I'm not laughing at you, Kristen, I'm laughing with you. What? You're not laughing...?)

Keep on telling the truth, moms. Tell the truth about the big stuff, the small stuff, the great stuff, and yes -- even the smelly stuff. Some days it's just what another mom needs to read.

Contributing Editor Mir also blogs about issues parental and otherwise at Woulda Coulda Shoulda and Cornered Office, as well as sharing the joys of mindful retail therapy at Want Not.