The damaging impact of a parent’s drug or alcohol use on their children has been well-documented in studies and memoirs. I know how harmful substances can be to family life, but to take the edge off the hard tasks of mothering, I’ve often used caffeine, alcohol and, more recently, weed. The legalisation of marijuana and the normalisation of its use where I live in Washington, in the US, lulled me into thinking it was OK, that it would enable me to relax, focus and playfully connect to my imaginative child.
Right next to the supermarket, a cannabis dispensary, Higher Leaf, announced its grand opening last year. Rows of sparkling display cabinets offered cannabis in all its forms, bringing back memories of a childfree, transcendent lifestyle. The salesperson recommended a sativa pre-roll, for “continuously unfolding realisations” with the ability to get stuff done. Weed combines spirituality and practicality, I thought, the same way motherhood is both a calling and a service job. So I bought it, presenting my ID and cash: no prescription or medical card required.
