My Friday. After a day of housework and caring for kids, I see them off for the usual fun-filled weekend with their dad. Now I am responsible for no little ones. I throw on my shoes, get in my husband’s car and drive to the nearest dispensary. By some trick of luck I ended up buying a house five minutes away from a great dispensary. Days are short now and it’s dark when I pull up. And cold. The security guard opens the door for me, I check in and am buzzed into the store.

Edibles. I’m on the hunt because I’m on my period and need the chocolate anyway, might as well use some cannabis infused chocolate to fix all my lady time ailments right? The cramps and bloating and achiness and misery, and pissed-offedness (that’s a word) that usually accompany this time are easily relieved by getting high and waiting it out. The roughest days coincide with my childfree weekend, so all systems go. 

I left with a 200mg Peanut Budda Buddah by IncrEdibles as well as their Mile High Mint bar. This was a researched choice, a decision I made after reading this article about the real THC levels in locally made edibles. Purchases made, I rushed home to begin my weekend in bed in a state of epic stonage. I’m sure it’s the same feeling alcoholics have when it’s Friday and they can’t wait to have a drink. Only I’m not destroying my liver. 

My history with edibles is a wee bit shaky. I always seem to find products that fall under the two categories, having no effect, or waaaaay too much of an effect. You know the kind, when you are so high you have to focus all your might on not dying. 

Like this.
Like this.

A few years ago the BFF and I went up to Blackhawk for some entertainment. This was back when I was miserable every day and didn’t know it. Blackhawk is a cheap gambling town in the mountains, not far from Denver proper. There are a few casinos and hotels up there, and it seems to be pretty popular with the elderly. So, two bored and depressed housewives head up to the mountains to drink a little and sit at some slot machines. Sounds like a good girls night to me. Except BFF procured a super potent edible, which back then I had zero experience with. 

We choked it down (we both have a really hard time eating edibles, the taste of cannabis is NOT something we enjoy) and a couple of hours later I was a couple gin and tonics into my mountain adventure and was having dinner with the girlfriend at the nicest looking steakhouse we could find. The edible had started to kick in, I felt stoned and happy, kinda boozy, slightly higher than normal but nothing I couldn’t handle. Despite a petite frame, I have the tolerance of a truck driver.  

So I’m sitting there gabbing, white tablecloth, wine in hand, and suddenly I feel this sickening sensation creep over my brain, eventually taking over my entire body. A cold sweat began, the room started to heave and ho, and a feeling a dread hit me. I was going to puke. I knew it. I feel sick and dizzy but I know there is no chance I could get up and walk anywhere. My friend noticed the sudden change in my appearance and asked if I was okay. Teeth clenched, goosebumps all over my arms and legs, I mutter that I am freaking the fuck out and am gonna hurl/pass out/die/I don’t know. An ominous silence permeates as she watches me wide-eyed and I hold my shit together like no other. 

Eventually our waitress notices and asks if I’m okay. She asks if I drank too much. I’m like yeah, uh huh, that’s it (go away go away gonna die gonna puke room won’t stop spinning). Then, because I had not inflicted enough embarrassment on myself, the restaurant manager comes to inspect me. They are both hovering over me, they give me a wet towel which I sort of muck around with. I eat some bread and he minutes tick by and slooowly things start coming back, the room stops spinning, I don’t want to vomit, and I am ravenous. 

The staff leave me alone and I am able to finally converse with BFF, who, like any proper friend, is sympathetic but also highly amused. She informs me that I was the color grey, not a typical hue for a Wahini like myself. Eventually we pay and leave, I think I needed to hold her as I walked, slowly regaining control of my limbs.


The experience has become my hallmark of being “way too mother-fucking high”. No, it’s not a stoner story that involves nudity or law enforcement. I’m a housewife, what do you expect? These are the types of scraps we get into. Oops, got too stoned at the grocery store. Ate an edible and lost my shit at dinner. My bad. 

Since the Blackhawk experience my tolerance for all cannabis products has risen. I’m at a Snoop Dog level of appreciation I think. So while I occasionally get super stoned and fall asleep, I never ever have any experience of illness and panic like I did then. I guess my brain lost its virginity that night. 

I’ve had many edibles, most commercially made, a few made by BFF. Some have done absolutely nothing, most have gotten me to a decent level of high, and some have gotten me like, stoned to the bone. 

One of the edibles that really worked was the Boss Bar from Botanicare in Northglenn. Too bad it was a nightmare to choke down. That edible/cannabis taste is just the worst. 

I also have had pretty great results with Cheeba Chew products, and thank goodness, none of them taste bad. The Deca Dose at 175mg THC is my favorite, but the absolute BEST for PMS and all lady related junk are the High CBD and Pure CBD chews.

And then the Incredibles chocolate products which pretty much rock everybody’s world. The Mile High Mint is my favorite for ease of consumption alone. Like eating an Andes mint in bar form, and then getting stoned. Perfection. 

Friday night I got home with my treats and sank into my bed (where piles of laundry waited to be folded) Mile High Mint in hand. I know, so exciting. The typical mom night of decadence. 

Well. I guess I had forgotten how edibles work, because this happened:

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It’s okay though. Honestly. I freaked out for like twenty minutes but was able to keep it together. Laundry unfortunately was a failure. Watching Dateline episode after episode however, I totally nailed. 

Saturday I experimented with the Peanut Budda Buddah. This time I ate one strip. It was just enough for me to feel fabulous for a couple of hours. Sunday I was a crazy girl and ate two strips on a full tummy. And that my friends, was perfection. 

Photo Nov 08, 3 51 23 PM
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The Stoner Mom is a pulled-together, WAHM, SAHM, boo-boo kissing supermom. Most would assume she is not stoned. Most would be quite wrong.