I live in Washington State. It is legal to smoke weed in Washington State if you are 21 years and older. The problem is my 15-year-old son thinks he fits into this category.

First, let me say that I know a few of you will be understandably concerned that I am putting my sons business “out there.” Two things to keep in mind.

1. Only about three of you read this blog. I can just say I am venting to my friends.
2. If he has the balls to come into my house reeking of weed, then he is the one who put his business out there.

Now that my little disclaimer is out-of-the-way, we can move on.

Like most kids, I tried weed when I was a teenager. I was probably 14 years old, sitting on a park bench with two friends who my parents did not want me hanging around with. They had a joint, passed it over to me, and I pretended to know what I was doing. I did not.

Many years later I would try it again. This time I had a “better” teacher. Thirty minutes later, I wanted to eat everything in sight. I decided that was the last thing I needed. Something more to make me eat. As if being an emotional eater was not enough.

I am at a loss what to do. He is 15, doing fairly good in school. I cannot be around him 24 hours a day. I just can’t. Am I suppose to keep him locked up? Am I suppose to hire a PI to follow him around, so I have my “proof” that he is smoking weed? I do not need proof. I have the proof, the proof comes following him home in the cloud of the weed smell that follows him in through the front door. So I ask you, what am I suppose to do?

A part of me feels like I am failing at this whole parenting thing. Where did I go wrong? I come from a good family. Crazy, but good. I had a great childhood, filled with magical memories, 80’s Hairband concerts, maybe a  time or two of skipping school. I always knew I was loved. I know how to be a parent because I had wonderful parents who set a good example. So I ask you again, where did I go wrong?

I do not know how to be a good parent without blaming myself for not being the type of parent my parents were. Sometimes I wonder if I even have it in me to be a good parent….because if I was a good parent, my 15-year-old son would not be smoking weed. Right?!?!

My children are 9, 11, 15 and 23. I have been through all stages of the game. When I had cute little newborn babies, I would tell myself “I cannot wait until they are able to sit up by themselves.” When they sat up by themselves I would tell myself “I cannot wait until they are able to walk” When they were able to walk I would tell myself “I cannot wait until they are able to start kindergarten.” And when they started kindergarten, I would tell myself “Time is going by too fast, it needs to slow down.”

What I have learned in my twenty-three years of being a mom to….

A little boy whose dad left at an early age.

A little boy who never knew his dad, because his “dad” was a POS.

A rambunctious little girl who is my minnie me.

An autistic daughter who is as feisty as can be.

It-never-gets-easier.

There will always be something new to learn. You will never stop worrying, you will never stop teaching, you will never stop blaming yourself, and you will always feel like you could have done more…..and in the case of my 15-year-old, you may learn a little something about weed.

Godspeed.

~Jennifer