I’m stressed. Revelatory, right? What parent isn’t stressed in 2018? The ’80s and ’90s parenting villages that once lovingly ushered child-minding from one home to another have been replaced with judgmental articles about gluten and screen time. Career-wise, I live a variable freelance life that involves daily pitching and daily rejection. My family is saving for my son’s college education while also paying for his preschool tuition. As I’m writing this, the cat has vomited on my bed. Like I said, I’m stressed.

My husband, Dave, likes to help, and so it was on the eve of my birthday a few weeks ago that he decided to bombard me with feel-good gifts: A weighted blanket, knitting supplies, chocolate and writers’ reference books. “There’s one more thing,” he said before disappearing to retrieve something from his car. Like a man with a dark secret, he returned with a sheepish look and a package clutched behind his back.

“Take this the way it is intended,” he began. “You said that childbirth changed your reaction to alcohol and you don’t like it anymore.”

“Yeah . . .”

“And you can’t turn your brain off when it comes to the baby and work.”

“Yes.”

“And sometimes, you wish you could decompress at the end of the day.”

“True.”

“Well,” he said, “do you want to try this?”

He handed me a package that included three tins of cannabis mints laced with various concentrations of CBD and THC. At age 35, I found myself in the middle of an after-school special.

I grew up around drug users. I never went in search of “the stash,” but it was always there: Behind the breadbox on the deepest kitchen counter, in the back of a closet, in the air that smelled faintly of skunk and pesto sauce. It made me nervous. The secrecy of it, combined with a rocky childhood and the harsh warnings from the local DARE program, formed my early and deep-rooted opinions: Drugs were bad, dangerous and a waste of time. And so too, if only by my direct associations, were the people who used them.

Dave knows this about me, so it was hard to picture him perusing the aisles of a Seattle dispensary for my birthday gift. He decided to appeal to my analytical nature: In true engineer fashion, he launched into a 15-minute scientific presentation about CBD and THC. “That stands for cannabidiol and tetrahydrocannabinol,” he instructed. The CliffsNotes revealed that CBD is the second most abundant cannabinoid found in the marijuana plant.

Often described as “non-psychoactive,” it’s sometimes used to treat anxiety and seizures. THC, like alcohol and other substances, impacts the part of the brain that affects decision-making and motor skills. It also has the benefit of providing that euphoric response that many a stressed parent relies on after a long day.

Before I lost my tolerance for alcohol, I was never opposed to having a glass or two of wine. The concentration of CBD and THC in my gifted mints, my sweet husband told me, were equivalent in terms of intoxication.

As amused and intrigued as I was by the presentation, I had a question.

“Do you think I need to get high?”

“No, not at all,” he said. “I just think you deserve a break.”

Okay, then. Sign me up.

The Saturday following my birthday was the perfect opportunity. I’ll take one during naptime, I thought. My son sleeps for around three hours, about as long as it takes for two glasses of wine to enter and leave my system. One little mint would probably last that long. As he and Dave toddled upstairs to read a book, I popped 10 milligrams of a CBD/THC combo and turned on the TV.

Nothing happened in the first two hours. Maybe weed just doesn’t affect me, I thought. Or maybe years of peripheral exposure built up my tolerance. Those thoughts went away by hour three, when my legs began to grow and the sofa began to sink. Dave looked on with concern.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. You okay?”

“Yes. I just realized my legs are long. Do I seem high?”

“No, you seem like you . . . with long legs. How are you feeling?”

How was I feeling? I couldn’t put a word to it, but I can tell you what I wasn’t feeling. For the first time in about six years, I wasn’t feeling stressed or preoccupied by the familiar pull of my Type-A brain – the one that never shuts off. I wasn’t worried about the kid or my career trajectory or the house or the college fund or the 401(k). I wasn’t feeling much of anything. I was in the moment. I just was.

The buzz that was meant to end with nap time lasted 9 hours, and included playing with my son and watching four consecutive hours of Home Improvement reruns on Hulu. I was enthralled.

“This show is so fun,” I said as my son and I snuggled and munched on handfuls of popcorn.

“We should have two more kids – two more boys!” I told my husband.

“Oh yeah,” Dave said. “You’re definitely high.”

The Lost Saturday ended with dinner as usual, followed by an unplanned nap for me on the sofa. I woke up feeling relaxed and hangover-free. Mine was not a brief high, and I can’t say that I’ll be popping another mint any time soon, especially with my 3-year-old in tow. But for parents with a higher tolerance and more experience, I could see how the occasional lozenge might be a useful alternative to anti-anxiety meds or “wine o’clock,” both of which carry similar effects and – inexplicably – half the stigma.

For now, I have a lifetime supply of edibles stashed on the top shelf of my closet, and I don’t feel like a bad person – or a bad mom. And it is possible that leaving the door open to a therapeutic mint after my son’s bedtime on a Saturday night might lead to a more relaxed Sunday. I could use more of those.

Sarah Szczypinski is a journalist living in Seattle. Find her on Twitter @SarahSz23.

WASHINGTON — As a new-product junkie, it was foregone that I’d swap a C-note for something called CBD, a cannabis extract promising relief from pain and anxiety, the twin banes of baby boomers recently awakened to the realization that, though their spirits be forever young, their joints definitively are not.

Lately limping, thanks to an old injury, and a few days shy of my next cortisone injection, I nearly leapt (or would have if I could have) toward the small spa table featuring CBD roll-ons and other attractively packaged potions. Call me a sucker, but I immediately embraced the sales pitch that this relatively new and wildly popular product could ease not only the ache in my ankle but make me feel a little breezier about life among headlines and deadlines.

Perhaps you’ve fallen under the CBD spell as well.

CBD, or cannabidiol, is a non-intoxicating derivative of both marijuana and hemp. Marijuana has a much higher level of the tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), the psychoactive cannabinoid in marijuana that gets you high. Hemp has much greater levels of CBD, which doesn’t have the mind-altering effects of pot.

In the past couple of years, CBD has become all the rage for non-stoners who want to feel better, too, sprouting a sudden industry of faddish-sounding supplements and CBD-infused products. Although CBD is technically a federally “scheduled” substance, several states allow access to CBD oil and/or high-CBD strains of marijuana. To date, marijuana is legal in nine states and the District of Columbia for recreational use; CBD is legal with varying restrictions in 46 states.

In other words, CBD may be the new gold rush. Stock forecasters such as the Motley Fool suggest that there could be a $75 billion U.S. cannabis market by 2030. Canada is already well on its way.

Meanwhile, a goldmine of CBD products is available online, in grocery stores, and even perhaps from your local latte vendor. In a market where you can buy vodka-infused ice cream, why not a cuppa java to warm your bones and chill your mind? Other products include CBD-infused gummies, mints, mascara, vape pens, bath bombs and even a tincture for pets.

But CBD isn’t just a fad. It’s also medicine with the potential for multiple therapeutic uses.

In June, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration approved the first CBD-derived pharmaceutical drug — Epidiolex — to treat seizures associated with Lennox-Gastaut syndrome or Dravet syndrome in patients 2 and older.

This could be a breakthrough not only for patients suffering such conditions but also for CBD generally. The arrival of additional pharmaceuticals is challenged, however, by obstacles to large-scale hemp production needed for clinical trials.

Also standing in the way is the federal government’s classification of hemp as a controlled substance.

This could soon change. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, R-Ky., inserted a provision in the farm bill to declassify hemp so that farmers can start growing it for CBD production.

In the meantime, everything else on the CBD market is pretty much a pricey game of roulette. There’s no way of knowing what you’re getting — in what quantities or with what additives. A 2017 University of Pennsylvania study found “a lack of regulation and oversight” on CBD extracts and reported that 70 percent of CBD products sold online were mislabeled.

Step right up!

For now, CBD is treated the same way dietary supplements are. Whereas drugs have to be proved “safe and effective” before they can be marketed, dietary supplements can go to market without any such evidence. The burden of proof falls on the FDA to prove that something is not safe and effective.

CBD has been gladly received despite its having avoided serious scientific scrutiny. Most will tell you that “it’s fine,” and I hope it is. But the truth is, we don’t know what quantities are appropriate or what other effects CBD might produce. The Army recently banned all CBD oils.

In essence, the public is serving as the guinea pig for a substance that hasn’t been comprehensively tested, while enriching not a few entrepreneurs who saw consumers like me coming. Skeptics, meanwhile, wonder whether it makes sense to make public health policy through an agriculture bill.

I can’t report yet whether my investment has paid off in pain relief. Before my CBD had a chance to act, I headed to the orthopedist’s office for a drug that is both safe and effective. Cortisone may be a serious pain — ouch! — but it seriously works.

— Kathleen Parker’s email address is kathleenparker@washpost.com.

On Tuesday, the Riverside City Council voted 4 to 3 to prohibit marijuana businesses in the city.

In doing so, the Riverside City Council made clear that it is incapable of properly representing the will of the public on marijuana policy. Most Riverside voters supported Proposition 64 in 2016, including majorities of voters in six of the city’s seven city council wards.

Councilmen Steve Adams and Chuck Conder in particular indulged in plenty of reefer madness. Channeling the comical fearmongering of the 1930s over marijuana, they whipped up concerns about crime, about the children, about murder. It’s a worldview that puts them not only in the minority in Riverside, but in the country.

There’s a reason increasing numbers of states have pursued and implemented marijuana legalization. There’s a reason Democrats and Republicans in Congress have repeatedly united to introduce federal marijuana decriminalization bills. And there’s a reason President Trump has indicated his support for ending federal marijuana prohibition and leaving it to the states.

Most people understand that prohibition is a failure, that prohibition doesn’t mean that marijuana just goes away and that prohibition ultimately does more harm than good. But Chuck Conder, Steve Adams, Jim Perry and Chris MacArthur aren’t among them, and see it as their responsibility to perpetuate the folly of prohibition.

In contrast, other members of the council seemed to at least understand that rushing to prohibition does the public a disservice.

Councilman Mike Soubirous, for example, noted that the city could just as easily prohibit liquor stores on the same grounds the marijuana prohibitionists wanted to prohibit marijuana. What an absurdity that would be — right? Now carry that recognition of absurdity to the proposed marijuana prohibition. Same issues at hand.

Neither prohibition nor legalization are a panacea, but legalization offers more control and revenue to address the negative consequences of marijuana or alcohol use, while mitigating the black market and all that comes with it.

Councilman Andy Melendrez, meanwhile, rightly called out the “scare tactics” and incomplete information gathering to justify prohibition. While the prohibitionists cited everything negative about marijuana legalization in Colorado, they didn’t offer the other side of things. Nor did the council adequately consider the experiences of the other states that have legalized marijuana — or even their own neighbors.

Last I checked, the sky hasn’t fallen in Palm Springs after several years of permitting medical marijuana dispensaries to operate.

Alas, there’s no good in looking to the Riverside City Council for leadership on this issue in keeping with the views of the majority of Riverside voters. It’s apparent a ballot initiative will be needed to do the work the council is unwilling and incapable of doing.

Sal Rodriguez is an editorial writer and columnist for the Southern California News Group. He may be reached at salrodriguez@scng.com