By Purba Ray Oct. 22, 2019
I wish someone had introduced me to weed on those nights I spent prowling around Haryana like a disoriented panther looking for my children. Think about it: If I was high, and Shardul announced right after his Grade XII exams that he wants to be a truck driver, I probably wouldn’t lose my temper.
Motherhood is the easiest job in the world. Had it been even a tad challenging, fathers would have done it, right? What’s not to love about a 24×7 work day that you don’t even get paid for and which comes with no exit clause? Some uninformed people call mommyhood a “journey”. Bullshit! Because every journey ends at some point. Not this one. Being a mother is like getting into a speeding car with no brakes, on roads that have plenty of hairpin bends. And it ends the day you breathe your last.
Being a mom is so much fun that we insist on telling anyone who’d care to listen that they don’t know what love is until they’ve had a child of their own. That the frustration and bewilderment we experience as parents is nothing but love in its purest form. Do you know what it feels like to gladly surrender your heartstrings to Her Ladyship in diapers, especially when she’s pulling at it in all directions to get you to do her bidding? It’s… lovely.
You get so used to being a slave, you do a silent yay when you get to put your life on hold, and re-prioritise your goals around the new centre of your universe. Meanwhile the centre of your universe is throwing tantrums and occasionally accusing you of being the world’s most awful mom, especially when you have the temerity to reject Her Highness’ demands. And then one day, when your boss lady announces that daddy is much nicer than you are, you are so thrilled, you dance like a ballerina.
Despite all this job satisfaction, there are days when you may think you’re doing a terrible job of being a mom. And you’d be absolutely right. While I understand how much you enjoy the anxiety that keeps you up all night, wondering why your darling Tathastu got 18 per cent in Maths while Mrs Majumdar’s daughter aced it — I have a feeling you could do with a break.
Being a mother is like getting into a speeding car with no brakes, on roads that have plenty of hairpin bends.
Hold your breath — the same way you do when you come home after a long day and see dal makhni smeared on the brand new couch — because what I am about to introduce you to, is (what us parents call) “dope”, which turns out, is indeed quite dope. Swallow your “LOL what”, just like Kiara swallowed that marble when she was six, while I explain why stoned moms make the best moms.
For one, they never lose their temper. Not even when Myra and Shayra are doing their best to cure her splitting headache by screaming like banshees. A pothead Mom will focus all her energy on the ceiling instead. This will stun Myra and Shayra so much, they’ll shut the fuck up immediately. Not even when Shardul announces right after his Grade XII exams that he wants to be a truck driver will a stoned mother lose her temper. She will merely blink twice before breaking into a fit of hysterical giggles.
Before you say I’ll smoke what she’s smoking, let me introduce you to Ms Campbell who in a post for Parent.com writes small amounts of pot as edibles allows her to be present and functional for her child
instead of snapping at him all the time. Micro dosing for pain and anxiety has helped her become social and enjoy her time with friends.
While marjiuana is still illegal back home, Delhi, according to an ABCD 2018 Cannabis Price Index, is the world’s third largest consumer of cannabis. And I can bet my daughter’s dirty diapers that a significant chunk of them are mommies.
True, if you get caught smoking weed in India, you might go to jail, but at least you’ll get to sleep eight hours, eat your meals on time, and socialise in peace!
I wish someone had introduced me to weed on those nights I spent prowling around Gurgaon like a disoriented panther, waiting for my now adolescent daughter to turn up. How was I to know she was referring to weed when she sauntered in home at 4 am and asked me to take a “chill pill”? But now that I know, I’d like to distribute this new “chill pill” to mothers, who similarly plant themselves at the steering wheel, navigating their offspring toward the goals they set for them, chanting “I know what’s best for you.”
No Mommy, you don’t! Had you been as smart as you claim to be, you wouldn’t have ended up majoring in Economics with the lowest marks in the batch.
Maybe it’ll help us to remember that parents are not meant to control our children’s lives, but enable them to live more fulfilling ones. A small dose of pot administered in edible form will be sure to take the edge off. Basically you’ll stop gnashing your teeth when you walk into your son’s room, and instead admire the creativity with which he has replicated the setting of war-torn Syria, and hug him tight. And your son will love you for it. If you are consistent, a day will come when he will call you the world’s best mom on odd days and coolest on even. But you will be too stoned to care.
A pothead mom will be too chill to try and keep up with the fears that come with trendy parenting. Should I be an anti-vaxxer and ensure a quicker death for my child? Or should I worry about overdosing my child with probiotics? Maybe I should just take it easy and watch Scooby-Doo for a few hours.
True, if you get caught smoking weed in India, you might go to jail, but at least you’ll get to sleep eight hours, eat your meals on time, and socialise in peace! By the time you are out, your kids will be all grown up and you will familiarise yourself with a new set of anxiety attacks.
You know what’s even better? Marijuana use triples a man’s risk of death from hypertension (high-blood pressure). So make sure your partner reads this and is too scared to try it for himself. This will ensure at least one of you is sober enough to nag your child into becoming the neighbour’s envy and owner’s pride. Anyway, you might be too stoned to care.
Nearly funny, almost liberal, rarely serious, Purba likes to keep a safe distance from perfection. Unfortunately she has an opinion on everything, fact or fiction, beginnings or ends, light or heavy, long and short.