Completely inappropriate Suburban Mom in Dallas, TX reclaiming her political power and sass after a decade in the Gulags of baby-raising. Cheers.

It’s called “Jammy Pants.” You read that right.

Imposter Syndrome in full effect. Here, you will notice a TikTok filter with Photoshop overlays.

I missed the blogging scene from earlier this century almost entirely.

The learning curve required to understand the elite technical wizadry to generate income from those things was, like, hella steep. Y’all, my brain cells tried and tried and, let’s just say I was a liberal-arts major FOR A REASON.

Also — and…

It’s not like they even need it.

This photo represents my frozen desolation from this past week.

Boy howdy, there is nothing like a deadly, weeklong freeze in your state of 30 mil to remind everyone that government — good or bad — only affects those who can’t afford to escape the clutches designed for everyone else.

The rich don’t…

Still have a mother of a hangover over a month later.


I slept like shit the night of the election.

Not because the networks hadn’t called the election for Biden. I had emotionally prepared to hang from that cliff by my goddamn fingernails for however long it took. Long-hauler, baby. These loins are made of steel.

My sleep was…

During The ‘Rona, I have one option to survive emotionally.

My daughter’s representation of her mother in the Emotional Witness Protection Program. Papa, can you hear me?

My “Get Through the Day” mantra has faced constant readjustment in these days of isolation.

Every day, standards of behavior and expectation must be whittled down to realistic degrees, the lowest of which are never low enough. Four and a…

Meredith Potyondy

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