After spending way more time in the chinchilla fortress than I planned, I was
behind on everything. The kitchen was a mess. I still had spelling to teach,
math lessons to correct, dinner to make, etc. Sarah entered the kitchen, left the remnants of her snack on the counter, and flounced away. My voice came out loud and
strained as I told her that she has to start taking more responsibility for
herself. I resurrected my "I'm-only-one-person" lecture, and I was almost in tears by the time I ended it with, "I'm drowning here!" At that point, she went outside to wait for her
dad to get home and coined a new word:
Parsnippity--the
desperate emotional state of an overwhelmed, irritated mom who is on the verge
of a full blown breakdown and can be sent over the edge if one more person
leaves clothes on the floor or dishes in the sink, bickers with a sibling, or
asks for something. As in, "Watch out, Dad; Mom is feeling parsnippity." Which
is how Mike was greeted when he got home.
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