This morning, we reached a new level of stonerism…

Hubby, Darling Daughter (DD), and I all waked and baked baked and waked? got stoned before tea time… While DD and I believe that weed fixes everything, Hubby is a stoic stoner.

Long before we met BEFORE I WAS BORN, he was a permanent stoner, but he stopped for forty years before my daughter convinced him to try. And because I’m a good mom, I wanted to be sure what to expect. Being seriously bougie and judgmental from a very conservative upbringing, I’ve only been around people who smoked weed once in my life…

Fast forward coming up on a year later, this girl is liking the devil’s lettuce more than she’d care to admit to her mother (DD’s grandmother!).

So, this morning Hubby wakes up with a serious tummy ache. DD – always looking for an excuse to smoke – tells her dad that weed works for tummy aches.

“Seriously, dad, it works.” Her voice makes this weird winding noise as she goes around and around his pinky.

“You’re talking shit, DD. You’ll say anything to smoke…”

“That’s NOT TRUE!” I love how she becomes all indignant when she lies. “Whenever I have my period and I smoke, it takes the pain away!”

“But, I’m not on my period,” Hubby kind of mumbles to himself.

[Flashback to last week, when he fought with me about something he can’t remember…]

I tried. I really, really tried… But it came tumbling out of my mouth.

“No, DD,” I say in my stern don’t-mess-with-my-husband tone. “That was LAST week.”

“Did you take one of my Adco Mefanamic pills?” She rubs her daddy’s head like he’s a little puppy.

These pills are amazing for period pains, by the way.

“No, the box is empty,” he responds.

“Quickly! Go write ‘Adco for Maniacs’ on your dad’s shopping list,” I instruct.

DD leaves the room, returns, loudly sounding out the word; “Ad-co Me-fe-ma-nic.”

“That’s what I said. Adco for Maniacs.” That comment earned me a deadly glare.

Then she goes on Google, and produces the evidence:

“But that’s medical marijuana,” he protests, weakly. I assume he felt drained from the pain. It’s not that his big, strong, manly defenses were worn down by us – defenseless, sweet, and subservient women…

Or maybe he was just being a good husband. See, I saw some guy from Nigeria lonely, foreign woman sent him a pic of her very tiny titties on Facebook.

He asked me how to react to it.

I started thinking…

There’s a lot he could say… “Thank You!” comes to mind. He could comment something like “Eh. I see and play with bigger daily.” She wasn’t exactly his “type” – way too skinny… But I mean, TIDDIES! you can’t be rude, right?

He didn’t want to report her because TIDDIES!!! of karma. I said he shouldn’t report or block her. I mean, a girl’s gotta earn her keep, right?

Instead of starting a fight, I dragged my inner feminist out and responded: “Instead of degrading yourself like that, join my business opportunity so that you can earn $5 million. It costs less than what I’d pay for a picture of your breasts.”

He IS my husband, after all, and we are ONE (for better and for worse, worster, worsterer until death does us part and then I track him down again somewhere in the hereinafter…) so if he wants to see titties other than mine, he’ll be doing it WITH me. I mean I have to know what I’m up against…

So, that could be why he’s being so agreeable.

He probably expected me to freak out. He’s not a bad guy really. 🙂

But I digress…

Back to the “weed fixes everything” conversation.

“Yeah, but ALL weed is medicinal!” I love it when my girl and I are in tune.

I wanted to get to work early today; I really did. I have about 10 hours of work to do today so that I don’t feel guilty for leaving the office early to go smoke and do a new little DIY project – cultivating fungi for research purposes. (More about that later!)

But Hubby had terrible tummy pain. So what do I do?

I couldn’t let them finish a whole joint by themselves so early in the morning… 🤷‍♀️ So I had to join them. I had no choice really, did I?

We had a good session.

I didn’t let the guilt or pressure of getting to work get to me – that would just kill my buzz, right?

In the days before I discovered wonderful weed (BW for Before Weed), I had major guilt. Woke up early? I’d feel guilty because I’m keeping the family awake (not really, but guilt has no bounds). Woke up late on the first day of the new month? Oh my! I won’t earn money this year! My guilt was hectic AF in the days BW…

Anyway, so we were having a grand old time chatting. We have such good chats during our Immunity, Truth, and Communication (ITC) sessions. Basically, our ITC times, when we smoke, we are not allowed to fight. We have immunity if we admit the truth about anything at all.

[I’m using magical ink for this section, in case my daughter reads it. Only YOU reading this will be able to see it. Please don’t tell DD!!

PARENTS: This is a fantastic strategy to find out horrible secrets about your teens!]

Unfortunately, the dosage was a bit too little to really fix Hubby’s tummy. The cramps returned as he killed the joint in the ashtray.

I couldn’t stand seeing him in so much pain… 💔 It just broke my heart.

What could I do? I had to roll another one…

So, now I have to get to work.

Am I going to feel guilty? No ways!

The lockdown had me lazy, uninspired, and a little bit broke. My motivation levels had me finding a reason to sleep in every morning. But things are on the up again, so I’ve been getting up earlier.

Let’s face it: A month ago I only got up at 10:45.

Today, I have accomplished 3 things:

• I have 40 min work under the belt;
• I got stoned;
• and I wrote you this recount of our session with the very important message everyone should know: Weed fixes everything.

Hubby’s tummy is better. DD thinks I rock. I call that progress my friend.

OH SHIT! I HAVE TO GET TO WORK!!!!

But first: MUNCHIES. I need chocolate brownies STAT.

Note to self: Don’t hire a stoner…