Hopefully the increased thyroid prescription will give me some energy, because nothing else has. I have become a shuffler. I throw on the same sweats and hoodie I wore yesterday and the day before that, shove my feet into my slippers, and shuffle downstairs to throw bowls and milk and spoons on the table so people can inhale something before I drive them to school because they are late because I couldn't make myself get out of bed to check if they were out of bed.

By that time, I'm so exhausted I have to read a book so I'll stay awake to make sure Joe gets to school instead of "taking care of Reuben while you sleep, Mom." Books are dangerous because they are so much easier than getting out all the bills to pay, or emptying the dishwasher or putting clothes in the washing machine or getting Reuben dressed so we can go shopping, since the food in the house consists of cold cereal and tortillas that dried out because somebody ripped the bag and I didn't notice. Books are good because they help me mask my frustration with my body, mind, and energy level.

By the time I remember to feed the chickens, I have noticed that my forehead hurts, not enough to be called a headache; the pain is lurking just above my eyebrows, as though there were a cloud over my brain right there, pushing to get out. Pressure. It is hard to think.

Where did all that energy I had during the summer go? I know I felt good a couple of weeks ago. Did the wedding really wipe me out for two weeks? Or was it taking care of sick kids and trying not to catch their germs?

I decided today that I can't help at the school, because I can't even make myself get dressed to take Reuben to preschool; I've gone in pajamas three times in one week! I don't necessarily feel depressed. Just hollow.

My plan is this: go to bed as soon after 9 as people finish their homework. Drink lots of water. No skipping breakfast or lunch--eat as soon as I remember it is mealtime. Concentrate on one household chore a day. Start dinner in the morning. Rest.

I can do things if I do them slowly. Steve is glad I'm still here. I am glad I'm still here. The kids are glad I'm still here, even if I do make them practice and do homework and dishes. Even if I'm on slow-mo permanently.