Let’s get one thing straight: if you’ve got a mom who raised you while simultaneously battling life, laundry, and little league schedules—and she didn’t throttle you with a flip-flop—you owe her more than a Hallmark card and a half-dead bouquet. You owe her a proper sesh. And maybe a foot rub, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
Mother’s Day. The annual guilt trip where brunch tables overflow and overpriced florists make their rent for the year. But what about the moms who roll joints better than cinnamon rolls? The mamas who hit the dab rig harder than they hit the PTA meetings? Yeah, I’m talkin’ about the Cannabis Queens. The High Priestesses of Patience. The moms who still manage to parent like champs, all while microdosing peace and quiet just to keep their sanity.
This blog’s for them.
High Mom, Hello
You see, weed moms are not the cliché stoners in tie-dye you’re imagining. They’re real as hell. They’ve got toddlers in one hand and a vape pen in the other. They schedule dentist appointments while breaking down the benefits of THCa like a ganja guru. You ever seen someone make dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets while simultaneously decarbing a batch of flower for infused olive oil? That’s not a mom. That’s a damn sorceress.
Dab Rigs and Diaper Bags
To the uninitiated, it may seem strange to light a torch anywhere near a diaper bag. But modern motherhood doesn’t come with a playbook. It comes with stress, sleep deprivation, and the occasional existential spiral. And you know what helps? That sweet, sweet plant. Not to escape motherhood—no, no—but to lean into it with a little more patience, a little more perspective, and just enough euphoria to survive a trip to Chuck E. Cheese.
Moms who toke aren’t doing less. They’re just doing it higher. Which, frankly, is impressive. Imagine remembering field trip permission slips while zooted. That’s high-functioning in every sense of the word.
Give Her the Damn Day Off
So here’s my plea to you: if your mom tokes, let her toke in peace. Let her hit the dab rig like it’s a rite of passage (it is). Let her eat an entire sleeve of Oreos without judgment. Give her the remote. Take her out to brunch—hell, even better—bring her brunch in bed, with a side of pre-rolls.
And if you are that mom, reading this while hiding from your kids in the bathroom with a pen in hand? We see you. We love you. And we hope your day is full of naps, snacks, and a well-deserved buzz.
Happy Mother’s Day to the stoned saints who keep it all together with a grin, a grinder, and enough green to out-smoke Snoop on a Tuesday.
Keep it weird,
~-JohnsJoints
