Doctor G, Smoking with your Parents

I know some of you hate my long posts. Too bad, it's hard to tell these stories properly in less than a thousand words. This is about smoking with my parents and my children smoking with their mother ( my ex wife) and her new husband I think it's funny
:rasta:


Smoking with your Children / Parents

I suppose itâ??s obvious that when I started smoking with my children it was a special occasion. On their eighteenth birthday we went camping in the Canyonlands National Park. I had saved some special hashish and some kind bud and after a long days hike and a fine meal we got stoned together around the campfire. My number 2 son brought his best friend and shortly after the second Chilum of kind/hash mix his friend stood up and remarked
â??I think Iâ??m getting highâ?� and fell over backwards in the sand.
For me I got my father high in the hay loft of our barn. Dad had converted the barn to an artist studio for my stepmother. There were skylights and a great stereo that I used to blast Jimi Hendrix into the neighborhood. My father came up into the loft while I was smoking some special African weed I had recently acquired and after a few uncomfortable moments he agreed to have a smoke with me. The only time he had raided my stash before it was some Jamaican pot that had been dosed with some MDA and it fucked him up so badly he threw it out when he was able to walk again. This time wasnâ??t much better.
He wandered up the stairs to the loft with a scotch in one hand and when he noticed the lucky strike sized joint I was holding he agreed to have a few hits. This pot was not the usual fifteen dollar a lid swag from the streets. At sixty dollars an ounce I was selling it to lawyers and doctors, and they were letting me know it was some of the most powerful they had ever seen. I suspect my father was at least half drunk before he started. He very quickly lost track of how many hits he had and as I put the clip on it to finish the roach he made some comment about just how fucked up he was. I made some reassuring comment not to worry about it and he decided to head back to the house to finish what ever he was doing.
As he took the first step down the stairs his foot was too close to the edge of the step and he lost his footing. Down the stairs he slid on his ass, holding his drink so it wouldnâ??t spill. At the bottom of the stairs he looked back up at me and I could see he was not pleased about just how fucked up I had gotten him, again. With a glare in his eye and a hand on his ass he stood up and made his way to the stairs to the ground without looking back. For some reason he never smoked with me again.

For my children it was a little different. After their mother and I divorced she started dating and eventually living with a pretty nice guy who also happened to be a stoner. My ex really is an old hippie. Hard working and heart of gold she is one of those people who loves clothing optional hot springs and on her vacations she would head to a series of natural springs in central Colorado where she would soak all day and make love with her boyfriend all night.
One vacation a couple of my sons chose to visit her at the springs. They camped out in the tent area and she rented a cabin. After dinner every one met at one of the pools and as they soaked in the hot water her husband to be asked permission to get her sons stoned. As the kids were over eighteen, and already getting stoned on their own she could see no problem. Bill reached into his shoes and pulled out a normal sized joint and suggested they should light it up. My number 2 son laughed and said heâ??d love to, but maybe they should smoke his first. With that he reached into his shoes and pulled out a small cigar he had rolled earlier in the evening. His mother laughed and explained it was just like her boys to want to get carried away and they might as well smoke his first.
With that my number 3 son got out his lighter and fired up the joint for his brother. Once they had the six inch cylinder properly burning they passed it to his mother and her beau. In the hot spring, stark naked, under the canopy of amazing Colorado stars, they passed the joint between them.
What his mother and her boyfriend did not know was that my son and I had been growing together and what he had rolled was a huge joint of Blueberry from our recent crop. At almost twenty percent THC this was no ordinary joint. Most people could only smoke a little, three or four tokes, before putting the joint down and giving up. Wrapped in the womb like waters under the Milky Way my ex and her beau did not realize just how stoned they were getting. My sons on the other hand had a pretty good tolerance built up from the last trip to Amsterdam and the general exposure they had to high quality weed. As the joint got closer to the end even her boyfriend started to show signs of being fucked up. My ex, the kids mother, had always been a giggler and she was fully gone by the time she stopped accepting hits.
By the time her boyfriend, Bill, had realized what he had been smoking it was too late. He tried to sit upright on the slippery rocks and lost his balance. He was barely able to keep the joint out of the water as he was dunked into the deeper part of the pool. My sons were able to rescue the joint. As they watched their mother break into uncontrollable giggles they asked if they needed to light another one, they had brought two; just in case. Neither of the parents was able to make much sense but they managed to shake their heads, no. My number two son asked if they had any objections to the boys lighting up another one and the parents decided they needed to get out of the pool and back to the cabin while they could. Several people in the next pool over asked if they could join in and made their into the waters.
With that the kids mother and her boyfriend wrapped themselves in towels and, giggling like teenagers, stumbled back to the cabin they had rented. My boys, of course, kept smoking and partying and watching the stars until well after midnight when they called it a night and headed back to their tent.

During our marriage I was always growing weed and occasionally I would bake some special treat for us and our adult friends. I loved Elizabeth very much but she really could not cook. I on the other hand had been cooking since I was five years old and am quite comfortable in the kitchen. When we got divorced she missed my cooking more than my company.
I was always making some treat or another for us and the kids. One night I baked five dozen cookies. Two dozen had been baked with pot butter and three dozen were for the kids to take to school. I had learned earlier to hide the â??specialâ?? cookies and leave the kids cookies out. One time our half-wolf dog got into the special cookies and before I could stop her she had â??wolfedâ?� down fifteen of them. It was less than an hour later I found the dog laying on her back in the living room watching, and occasionally trying to bite, her front paws. There was no point in trying to help, she would sober up in a few hours.
So I learned to keep the cookies separate and hide the special ones before I had sampled too many of them. The night I remember best I had baked a lot of cookies and had gotten the green ones put away over the refrigerator and generally out of harms way. I finished the family batch and left them on the table. I knew the kids would smell them in the morning and I figured if they could find some easily they wouldnâ??t bother looking for the other ones.
Wrong. My oldest was maybe six. His brother was three and the youngest was still in a crib. I slept in that morning and by the time I got up it must have been nine oâ??clock. As I made my way to the kitchen to start the coffee I noticed my eldest and my wife sitting on the couch in front of the TV watching Sesame Street. I was some what surprised to see some cookies left on the table but I gave it no consideration.
As the coffee dripped I pulled out a couple of coffee cups and set up a round for my wife and I. Then I noticed the container of special cookies. Someone had pulled it from itâ??s hiding place and opened it up. I donâ??t think there were ten cookies left.
Now I donâ??t make weak cookies. When I bake pot cookies I use at least an ounce of fine weed and I make sure you will get off on just one or two. Once I took some into a factory I was working in and the night shift was never the same. Half the personnel got so stoned they had trouble making their way back to the machines. I hurried out and looked at my wife and eldest son.
My eldest was propped up on the couch like some invertebrate. My wife was no better. She could not open her eyes all the way. My son had half a cookie in his hand and when he tried to put it to his mouth to take another bite he missed his face by a good foot, The act of lifting his hand was enough to throw his balance off and he would be leaning into the pillows for some support. I asked Elizabeth if she wanted some coffee and she looked at me without understanding. I could see the crumbs around her and I asked just how many she had eaten. She could almost shake her head, before she collapsed back into the pillows.
I brought her a cup of coffee and set it down next to her. I headed back into the kitchen with my cup and gathered up what was left of the special cookies and looked for a more secure place to keep them. Maybe in the lock box where I kept the weed, I thought. Then I heard the coffee cup hit the coffee table.
Her eyes had opened a little more but they were still no more than half way open. The cup was on itâ??s side on the little table and was dripping coffee on to the rug. I got a towel to wipe it up. It was like trying to talk to a raccoon. She was completely unable to communicate. I was worried about my son as well as he was not responding to anything around him. TV on, TV off he continued to stare blankly at the general direction of the screen and with his mouth half open he would occasionally try to take another bite of the cookie in his hand. I substituted a plain cookie for the dosed one and he really did not notice. I knew they would sober up eventually so I finished my coffee and went into my shop to go to work for the day.

to long

I liked the post.

When I first passed one to my son he made one of the best faces in the word. We were driving to a fishing spot and, being the backwoods and such, it was just great seeing his eyes nearly pop out of his head. He swerved a little but we got into a session.

I had known he smoked for ages at this point and had to cover for him constantly, and unintentionally stealing about 4 glass pipes and a very, very nice glass bong because I had to say they were mine.

I'm more friends with my son now than ever, and I remember when my dad first toked with me. I think it's genetic.

It is a very connecting experience, and while I've had yet to let on to him that I first tripped acid with my dad and still do today, we are closer than ever.

Plan on showing him my some 20-30 hits of pane from a recent festival of sorts. See if he's interested, if he may have already done some, and if not maybe talk about it and other psychoactives.

Anyhow.

If I had more to say I would. I feel insignificant. :D

--mic

My dad killed my mom and right before he chopped her up with an ax he said, "I'm doing this because I smoked some weed today!"

Yeah dude! Me and my pops were driving out to an old farm owned by close friends of ours, on the way there my dad knows ive ben smoking for well over 3 years and has caught me on several occasions, so my dad says "do you really want to see how fucked up this shit gets me?" and im like "what shit?" So he pulls out a beautiful 5 inch joint , no bigger around than my thumb, on a roach clip. so were driving there and after a few passes he tells

Yeah dude! Me and my pops were driving out to an old farm owned by close friends of ours, on the way there my dad knows ive ben smoking for well over 3 years and has caught me on several occasions, so my dad says "do you really want to see how fucked up this shit gets me?" and im like "what shit?" So he pulls out a beautiful 5 inch joint , no bigger around than my thumb, on a roach clip. so were driving there and after a few passes he tells me on how to not pass when there is a car comin by. so im super baked and we get there and we both have to ghet into our tree stand. a 35 foot climb DAMN! well he hasnt done it with me since then about 2 months ago but i will always remember this day! i love you dad :rasta:

i could never never never NEVER smoke with my parents, we just arent on that level. it would be WAY too uncomfortable. i cant even smoke with my brother, we never havre and never will get along, and maryjane wouldnt help ease the situation. im sorry but i just hate the idea. while it would be cool to have that kind of relationship with my folks, i will never even take a second glance at the idea.never. we just dont have that kind of relationship.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by potsmokersinceiwas9

to long

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Cry more please.

Great story as always, Doctor G!

Unfortunately, I could never smoke with my parents because we simply do not see eye to eye on that issue, but I have always enjoyed toking with my brother. It has what made us so damn close.

I've had the previlege of smoking w/ my mother,,,and yrs later w/ my daughter :smokin:

Very good story. I love reminiscing like that, but sometimes it makes me sad. I'm only 17 though, so I'm still making memories. Whenever I see em I read your stories top to bottom.

I wonder if your kid wondered what was going on. He probably figured it out and had a damn good time. -laughs- I've smoked with my mom once or twice and she's a goof when she's high. Your stories are always appreciated, and make sure to post em whenever you type one out. ^^

Thank you; as an frustrated author I really enjoy hearing that someone like my stories. I have quite a collection of rejection letters over the years
I have many more , in the bag so to speak, I only release 1 a month (or so)
tons of love to all
Doctor G

cool post to read

my mom is pritty ill and i openley knwo shes not guan be alive so long so i smoke with her evey chance i get and thats how ill remebr her long aftor shes gone as for my old man hell come out to the grage and see me hittten my bong and ill offer it to him and most of the time hell say no but some times he gets pritty high its awsome caus the times i smoke iwth both of them i get my dog high and its cool to know evey one in the house if fucking baked

Doctor G that was a wicked story!...wow man you have a pretty good life from what i can tell. I wish i could toke up with my dad but none of them know i smoke the stuff and if they did they would get super pissed at me....its a shame cuz i could see me and my dad having a hell of a good time :(

i have smoked with my brother an sister but not my parents not a chance of that happening as he no longer smokes fags and always complains of me smelling of fag smoke when i go round lol
i used to pack my brothers bongs and pipes funny to see his face sometimes it really was he always tryed to be like me looking up to me all the time so i would do lil things like that one day he will be able to take it like me
the lil fuck does it to me too lol so i see that lil trick has rubbed off lol

Here in South Africa,there are far more dangerous drugs than weed,so when I told my parents that I would be a doobsmoker(at the tender age of 16)for life,they were pretty happy I wasn't so adament about doing coke or h for life.
My dad gave me my first green-banana-cake recipe,it wasn't that great_but it's the thought that counts,right?

what a mexcellent story

wow man great story. your family sounds so cool. and dude u grew 20% thc bud...that takes skill. great job man, keep up whatever ur doing.

good story doctor g, and yeah i read it all the way, which is an accomplishment.

im too lazy right now to post my first experience of smoking with my dad.

Great story warmed my heart up a treat
Thank you
:rasta:

awesome story man, stuff like that is always fun to read.

I wish i could smoke with my parents. I know they both use to smoke a lot. My mom even tells stories about how she use to grow. She quit though and I dont really know about my dad. If he still smokes, he hides it really well. hah

Nice story, I enjoyed it.

Wow. I loved the story, doctor G. I've got suspicions that my mother smoked when she was my age, but my parents can't even talk to me about any drugs. Kinda sad, isn't it?

yeah, i smoke with my niece, son and daughter not when they were teenage tho... in fact i quit tokin when they were teen... wanted to be a good example then i busted them smokin and conficated thier weed which they stole back... a few years later we were tokin together... now they are my three of best connections...:stoned:

wow nice story long but interesting

you should start a podcast

Another great story, it's good to know your on good terms with your ex and her boyfriend.

Funnily enough I randomly toked with my mum yesterday. I have before but only once at a family party we threw at a beach on the isle of wight. I was fed up after work and just said 'Mum! Reefer?' and she jumped at the chance :P . We talked about how weird my younger half brother is and how he's just like me :jointsmile: . Was cool.

Keep the stories coming.

nice story. i remember the first time i smoked with my dad we just got each other so high off a huge bong he had and we both ended up watching southpark on the sofa for like 3 hours without saying a word to each other but times have changed a bit since then.

i didn't figure out that my dad started smoking weed in till i started. I just saw all the symptoms ha. Ive told him I smoke and he doesn't trip he makes my high even cooler. We havnt blazed yet probably because I'm only 16 but i try to make his highs cool by cooking for him or watching tv. I don't think me and him have ever been high at the same time. Our smoking relationship is sorta of discrete like we know each other smokes but we don't try to kill the high its cool. Sometimes he lets me get a couple of spears from his afgani kush plant