I’m sitting on my bed, completely at peace. My 4-year-old soundly sleeps in the room next to ours and all is well with the world.



I’m totes high.

Not terribly so, just enough to get me though the evening of coming home after a long day at work, loving, feeding and cleaning up after two humans and three animals. And doing it all with a smile.

I didn’t start out mothering this way — getting high to perform daily tasks that every mother should do in complete sobriety, laughing and smiling and comforting everyone but herself. I have always been a bit of a selfish person by nature. I’ve never been someone who shares easily — I won’t let you have a shrimp from my shrimp parm. Just no.



It was also the same when I became a stepmother practically overnight. Hubby and I had a very short courtship and got married rather quickly. Partly because I was old (40ish) and I wasn’t wasting any time, partly because…well, life is too damn short. And I wanted a baby before it was too late.

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Fast-forward to a few years later and my life as a mom in Brooklyn is as typical as it comes. I have a great husband (no, not perfect), a good career (not steady) and my littlest love: my gorgeous, perfect baby boy. Parenting is never easy, not for anyone, and I don’t care who the hell you think you are or what perfect baby you claim to have birthed. No one is perfect and we all have our bad days.

In the days of online mom-shaming, I’m not immune to judgement. But being an older mom has had many advantages, in the sense that as a woman in my 40s, I don’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thinks of me or the way I raise my kid. Yea, I gave my kid formula and frankly, it’s none of your damn business why I did. You think I’m too permissive in my parenting? Whatever. You think I shouldn’t feed him non-organic hot dogs? Seriously. Don’t care, never did.

I am a mom who drinks. It’s so very popular and dare I say, fashionable to be a mom that does. But it’s difficult to maintain a full parenting schedule, with or without a job, when you drink like a fish at Timmy’s soccer game. How many drunk moms videos can one watch in a day? Gotta love their spirit though, and their ability to not run to the nearest bar and order 50 wings on Wing Night after drinking all that chardonnay! I can’t day drink, so that only leaves night drinking and my nights are short these days.

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I’m mostly a mom who smokes pot. In many ways, it’s easier than drinking. In many ways, smoking is a better way to cope than drinking. There are countless studies that say marijuana does significantly less damage than drinking. In my own home, I notice the difference. My mind immediately calms when I smoke. When I smoke, it’s one bong hit and I’m ready for the evening. I can cook with flair (ok, maybe there’s a touch too much salt) and my conversation with both adult and kid are lively and entertaining. I actually enjoy everyone much more!



I’m not avoiding my feelings or life issues (do bills ever go away?) but I’m looking at it from another vantage point. I’m on the ‘other side of the room,’ I like to think. I can get a lighter sense of the situation: why get angry over stupid shit? You came home wearing two different shoes? Oh well, you must have been popular today, kiddo! You didn’t take the garbage out, honey? Like I asked you to three times before I left for work? Awwww, I still love you anyway, ya big lug. Now, get that shit out of my house.

When I drink, it’s more of a mission. I’m drinking to get as much of a buzz as I can, one that must be maintained continually and one that I can accidentally over-imbibe if I’m not careful. I’m talking slight hangover in the morning, not barfing-in-corner-garbage-cans-walking-my-kid-to-school type stuff. Those chicks need help.

Related Link: 5 Ways Marijuana Can Help Your Relationship Stay Strong

So, Hi. I’m Marijuana Mom. I’m here for your questions, your comments, and your answers (Hey, I got questions too, like, how do you not eat everything in the fridge once the munchies kick off and the kiddos are in bed?)

As Contemporaries in Weed, I’d like you to know that every column I write will be done under the cloud of the green leaf. I won’t write about pot sober, because, duh, who wants to hear from me sober?