I smoke marijuana for various reasons. It alleviates my chronic mental health issues, reduces my anxiety, and helps me unwind after a long day. It eases the muscle pain that often accompanies that stress, improves my sleep, and enhances my ability to engage with my kids. It helps me feel more relaxed in overwhelming situations, like crowded events. Essentially, using marijuana allows me to navigate life more smoothly.
Research supports the benefits of marijuana for mental health, with studies indicating it significantly decreases anxiety and stress levels, as noted in sources like Psychiatric Times and CannaMD. Many parents, including mothers, partake in cannabis use, and it’s now legal in numerous states, including Washington, D.C. In fact, possession of small amounts of marijuana is decriminalized in several others, making it less of a legal concern in many areas.
So when a massive dinosaur exhibit rolled into town, I anticipated the chaos it would bring. I despise such events due to the noise, crowds, and endless questions from my children about the exhibits that I couldn’t care less about. My husband, aware of how I typically react, handed me my vape pen filled with medicinal marijuana. He knew I would need it to enjoy the outing.
I retreated to my bedroom, turned on some music, and took a few hits. Unfortunately, I forgot to lock the bathroom door. In the midst of inhaling, my son barged in, needing to use the restroom. I was caught red-handed, and there was no way to hide what I was doing. Panic set in as I exhaled, and I immediately began to scold him about privacy.
He apologized, explaining that the other bathroom was occupied. I shot back, insisting that he should have knocked, regardless of the situation. Now, I found myself at a crossroads; I had no idea how to address this moment.
My son, at nine years old, had definitely witnessed something he shouldn’t have, but I wasn’t sure how much he understood. I had two choices: ignore the incident or confront it directly. Ignoring it would spare me from answering questions about my marijuana use, which is still illegal in our state. I certainly didn’t want my son running around revealing to his friends that his mom smokes pot. I remembered how I was at his age—a secret like that would be too tempting to keep quiet.
On the other hand, avoiding the topic felt disingenuous. My son clearly saw something, and ignoring it could lead him to draw his own conclusions, which might be far from the truth. Did he think I was smoking tobacco? We’ve discussed that before, and while I occasionally smoke cigarettes, this was something entirely different. He already knows that we believe marijuana should be legal and that it has medicinal purposes. He also knows I used to smoke pot before he was born.
Perhaps it’s time to have an open conversation about it. I could ask him how he felt about the situation. Did he have fears? Was he worried about getting caught? Did he want to try it? I had to consider whether I could trust a nine-year-old with this information. At twelve, I would have no reservation about discussing it, and at seven, I would have chosen to ignore it completely. But nine is that tricky age, teetering between childhood and adolescence.
Right now, I’m choosing to avoid the topic, hoping it will fade away. But I know I need to address it sooner or later. My husband and I need to talk, weigh the options, and perhaps have a sit-down with our son. Or maybe we won’t. I’m still uncertain. What I do know is that I wish that bathroom door had been more secure.
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Summary
A mother reflects on the moment her nine-year-old son caught her smoking marijuana. Faced with a decision to either ignore the situation or discuss it openly, she grapples with her own experiences and the implications of her actions. Balancing honesty with parental discretion, she contemplates how to address the incident while considering her child’s understanding of marijuana use.