Lessons I Learned from My Stoner Mom - Culture | MERRY JANE
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Lessons I Learned from My Stoner Mom

While other little girls were playing patty cakes, I was learning the ABCs of weed.

by Zoe Wilder

by Zoe Wilder

My mother loves to tell the story about the time she threw a shindig at our house as I was just beginning to walk. Cocktails flowing, music bumping, ganja puffing until mom noticed her stash was gone. Paranoid, she locked the doors and demanded everyone empty their pockets. After several awkward interactions with friends, I tottered into the living room, giggling, as I held up her voluptuous bag of earthy goodness. Everyone had a chuckle, and the party resumed as if nothing happened.

This was just one of many hijinks, dotting my colorful existence. Her parenting methods were anything but conventional, but most will attest I turned out just fine. I even learned a few lessons along the way. Now, I’m passing them down to you.

Stash Your Stash

My mom is messy. Dropping a lighter in her bedroom is a game of needle in a haystack. However, she almost always knows where to find her stash. Her system for quick cannabis access is a tin box she hides under the bed. If you have teenagers, know they will find this box of delights. If you have small children, keep it out of reach. If you’re like me, you prefer wooden boxes, like the Cannador, and like to display them proudly in your living room because they match your decor.

Be Prepared

Mom took me and my little sister on a Caribbean vacation. But, on the first night she sprained her ankle and had to stay in, icing her injury and smoking doobies all night. Even though she was in pain, we still managed to make the most of our trip. With much help from her plant medicine, her spirits remained high as we explored towns by day and star-gazed by beaches at night. It was one of the most memorable trips of our lives.

Play the Birthday Card

Inside bars and casinos, she taught me the secret phrase that grants access to bottomless beverages, free joints, and tons of tokens for Galaga and slot machines. When said with a smile and a wink, “It’s my birthday!” works like a charm (even when it’s not really your birthday, even when you’re way too old to be pulling such stunts).

Say No to Miracle-Gro   

When I was 18, I tested out my green thumb. With a watchful eye, I kept my baby cannabis plant perched in the windowsill of my bathroom. I’d serenade it with silly lullabies as I bathed in bubbles, excited to imagine our future together. On one of those evenings, my mother barged in and discovered my sweet seedling. Excited, she grabbed a bottle of Miracle-Gro solution and soaked it. My little bud-to-be never recovered from the trauma. Grow organic, use “living soil”, or simply pay attention to your plant’s needs.

Boogie Your Way to Enlightenment

Mom cocktail waitressed at Atlanta’s answer to Studio 54, a club called Packets, and from time to time she’d take me along. During her shifts, she taught me to dance on speaker cabinets and to bust a move on bass bins. Between beats, she confessed, “cannabis connects the dots between the flow of energy between mind, body and spirit.” A few tokes, your favorite DJ, and a dancefloor is all you need to electric boogaloo your way to enlightenment.


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Zoe Wilder

Zoe Wilder is a writer based in Portland, Oregon, with a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature from the College of William & Mary and a Master of Social Work from Fordham University.



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