Every December, someone asks Santa how he does it. It’s usually about the travel, the hours, the stamina. I’ve seen it happen enough times now that I can picture Mrs. Claus standing a few feet away when the question lands, already scanning the room for who looks fried and who’s about to ask for something unreasonable. She doesn’t interrupt. She doesn’t roll her eyes. She just keeps things moving, because that’s the job.

The North Pole in December feels less like a winter wonderland and more like a seasonal warehouse with feelings. Shifts stretch long. Everyone’s cold. Everyone’s tired. The work ramps up fast and doesn’t slow down until Christmas Eve is over. Mrs. Claus runs the operation that makes the magic look effortless, which mostly means handling the parts no one else wants to deal with: scheduling, conflict, emotional fallout when someone snaps after too many long days in a row.

A few years ago, she started noticing that some elves were handling the season better than others. Not because they were more cheerful or more committed, but because they recovered faster. They slept. They showed up in the morning without that wired, brittle energy that usually settles in by the second week of December. When something went sideways — a shipment delayed, a schedule rewritten for the third time — they adjusted instead of melting down.

Eventually, she asked what was helping. That’s how weed entered the chat.

Weed made its way to the North Pole the same way it does anywhere else: It came back with people. Elves rotate out after the holidays. Some travel. Some work other jobs. Some spend the summer chasing swell in warmer climes. Some spend time with family in places where cannabis is legal and boring. They came back north with routines, products, and preferences. The conversations happened quietly, the way tired people talk about anything that helps them sleep. Hushed chats in the kitchen after dinner, outside in the cold when no one else is listening, in half-formed sentences before bed, with a handshake or two.

I asked Mrs. Claus to tell me how it all unfolded.

Miss Grass: When you first noticed the difference with some of the elves, what stood out to you?

Mrs. Claus: Sleep. December sleep is terrible here. Everyone’s running on adrenaline. The elves who were using weed in the evenings were actually sleeping through the night. They came in calmer. In a pressure cooker like the North Pole; calm and steadiness gets noticed.

Miss Grass: What were they actually using?

Mrs. Claus: It depended. Some liked low-dose edibles because they didn’t want to smell like smoke and they wanted something predictable. Others would share a joint outside after dinner, even when it was freezing, because that was the only quiet moment they had all day. A few used vapes because they were easy. There was no system. People were figuring it out as they went.

Miss Grass: Did everyone nail it right away?

Mrs. Claus: Absolutely not. A couple of elves took too much early on and showed up useless the next morning. That got sorted quickly. December doesn’t give you a lot of grace. People learned their limits fast.

Miss Grass: How did you feel about it at the time?

Mrs. Claus: I was skeptical. I had all the same assumptions most people do. I worried it would make things harder to manage. But the elves who used it thoughtfully were often the ones I relied on most during crunch time. I couldn’t ignore that.

By the end of that season, weed wasn’t controversial at the North Pole anymore. I realized it was just another thing some people used to get through an intense month without burning out completely. I, however, was still white-knuckling it.

One December, a few years ago, I realized I hadn’t slept properly in weeks. Not because I wasn’t tired — I was exhausted — but because my brain wouldn’t shut up. I’d lie in bed replaying conversations, reworking schedules, mentally running the next day before it even started. I stopped drinking years ago; only a spiked egg nog on Christmas Day, here or there. 

I knew, though, that I could not push through another season like that. One night after dinner, I asked one of the elves who I trusted the most to try a small edible, and he handed me one right from his pocket.

Miss Grass: What do you remember about that first night?

Mrs. Claus: I was doing dishes and noticed my shoulders drop. I hadn’t realized how tense I was until they weren’t. I slept deeply. The next morning didn’t feel like I was already behind.

After that, I knew I wanted consistency, and I wanted to experience that feeling again. December isn’t the time to experiment, and I didn’t want to think too hard about what I was taking or when. That’s when Miss Grass entered my routine. One of the elves’ girlfriends said she liked the brand, so a special delivery ended up back in the North Pole at some point.

Miss Grass: How does Miss Grass fit into your life now?

Mrs. Claus: I use it very practically. If I know I’m heading into a day with long meetings or conflict, I’ll use Lift Up gummies mid-morning. It doesn’t make me chatty or spacey. It just keeps me patient enough to listen without getting sharp.

Evenings are different. After dinner, once Santa’s asleep and the house finally quiets down, I use Wind Down gummies or I will take a puff or two of Quiet Times flower. I’ll sit by the window or soak outside if I have time. The important part is that my brain stops replaying the day. I can actually rest.

Miss Grass: Has that changed how December feels?

Mrs. Claus: Completely. I still work constantly, but I’m not carrying it in my body the same way. I enjoy meals now. I laugh more. I don’t feel like one small thing is going to send me over the edge.

Miss Grass: We have to talk about the cookies.

Mrs. Claus: The cookies on the plate are for Santa. The ones in the tin in the back of the cupboard are for me. The tin is labeled. No one’s confused. 

I won’t give away my plug, but there’s someone in the mix here who is able to get bulk flower. So I learned how to decarb and make my own cannabis oil, which I infuse into the cookie batter. This year, my special recipe includes crushed up peppermint patties dusted on top of dosed sugar cookies.

I’m still trying to get Santa to try cannabis; he’s still a bit unsure, and he does love his egg nog. He’s supportive of my use, though; he knows how everything truly gets done. Behind every man doing it all is a woman making sure the system doesn’t collapse — and sometimes, that woman needs to sleep.