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Pothead(s) of the Week: Weed Moms, in All Their Ganja Glory

Moms, Mother’s Day, marijuana, mommajuana, Marijuamma’s Day, Motherjuana’s Dank, etc. Let’s talk about some damn moms smoking some damn weed.

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It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday. Have you ordered flowers for your mom yet? If you haven’t, I’m pretty sure one of those flower services they advertise on podcasts can charge you $80 for like a vase of three roses that they will deliver to your mom’s doorstep with a nice note that you can write her, and it’ll totally seem like you had your shit together and didn’t get the idea from reading a column about weed on a website about weed owned by Snoop Dogg. Or, if your mom smokes weed, you could buy her weed or weed-related stuff. (But if you’re not absolutely certain that your mom is a proud stoner who will not be embarrassed or annoyed by her progeny gifting her some marijuana on the day you’re supposed to be thanking her for birthing you, I don’t recommend this.)

ANYWAYS, moms, Mother’s Day, marijuana, mommajuana, Marijuamma’s Day, Motherjuana’s Dank, etc. Let’s talk about some damn moms smoking some damn weed.

Pothead One: Dr. Dina, the Inspiration for the Show 'Weeds'

I remember binging like four seasons of Weeds in a month in college (I didn’t go to class very often), and what struck me about the show is how quickly it went from a story about a mom who starts selling marijuana to keep her kids fed into an exploration of all the facets of the drug trade (as well as how crazy and kinda shitty it got). But the character of Nancy Botwin is in part based on a woman Dr. Dina, the first woman to open up a medical marijuana dispensary. VICE did a great documentary on Dr. Dina –– whose clients include none other than Snoop Dogg himself –– which you can watch above. And also revisit MERRY JANE’s recent catch-up interview with the savvy entrepreneur here.

Pothead Two: Moms Suffering From Postpartum Depression

Despite being neither a medical doctor nor a parent, I’m going to go ahead and say that looking after a baby on Xanax seems like a bad idea. Anyways, Xanax and antidepressants are frequently prescribed by doctors to treat symptoms of postpartum depression, which is a thing some new moms are understandably not super jazzed about. But, as a piece published by MERRY JANE earlier this year attests, more and more mothers are turning to marijuana as an alternative to conventional pharmaceuticals when it comes to treating postpartum depression. “It’s like my emotions and my brain caught up to each other and could regulate,” a mother named Celia Behar told MERRY JANE’s Avital Norman Nathman. For her, weed “worked like nothing else had.”

Pothead Three: Rich Madison Avenue Moms

Because of my indiscriminate consumption of media both high-minded and low, I often joke that I am basically a human goat. My current cultural obsessions include Korean B-Movies, the Nashville redneck-rapper Colt Ford, the collected essays of Gore Vidal, and the New York Post. So I was extremely excited when I found this New York Post story about Madison Avenue moms, the type of people who probably also read Gore Vidal, who have become obsessed with weed. “They are texting me, ‘Can you hook me up?’ Like all of a sudden, I’ve turned into the Madison Avenue drug dealer? It’s great,” says our heroine Jeri, who came by weed because her son works in the Colorado marijuana industry. Is this piece –– which also mentions moms who microdose with edibles and moms who have gotten yeast infections from using CBD-infused vaginal creams to “increase sexual pleasure” –– reflective of a wider acceptance of marijuana among Rich Moms? Well, it’s the New York Post, so who the fuck knows?

Pothead Four: Recession-Affected Dealer Moms

The country is still getting over the financial crisis of the late aughts, whose causes and effects are too voluminous and granular to discuss at length here. But one side-effect of the wave of job losses, according to a 2011 piece by Tony D’Souza for Mother Jones, is that the recession turned a lot of law-abiding people into drug dealers. After touring a suburban growhouse and riding around with a dad who does double duty as a drug mule, D’Souza travels to Florida, where he meets Tegan, a single mom who nearly got busted by the cops in front of her daughter as they were returning from the grocery store. She talked her way out of it –– “I was really surprised by how cool I was, because I was scared shitless,” she tells D’Souza — but the incident was a less-than-gentle reminder of the serious dangers still associated with getting involved in the underground economy, even if you’re forced into the business because you’ve got nowhere to go. When read back-to-back, the Post’s piece on high-living weed consumers and Mother Jones’s exploration of the economically depressed who turn to dealing underscore how an illegal good can simultaneously further the fun of the leisure class while creating risks for those who help the elite have a good time (despite the fact that those risks could very well trap them at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder). Anyway, be careful moms, have fun moms, and Happy Motherjuana's Day!

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