If you’re my age (sorry!) and grew up in the States, you probably know the tune to these lyrics:

You take the good, you take the bad

You take them both and there you have

The facts of life, the facts of life.

 There’s a time you got to go and show

You’re growin’ now you know about

The facts of life, the facts of life.

When the world never seems

To be livin’ up to your dreams

And suddenly you’re finding out

The facts of life are all about you.

How long have you been reading this blog? If it’s a while, then you’ve experienced the good and the bad. You know that, over six years, Martin has moved from virtually no functional language or eye contact to a kid whose social awkwardness is primarily the inability to shut up. Early on, he was removed from a twelve-student, two-instructor preschool class because he wasn’t up to the task. Now he’s in a 22-student, one-teacher mainstream classroom, albeit with an aide. You also know that the path has been beset with obstacles: frustration, setbacks, inexplicable ROOS.

After we switched to a low-salicylate diet, Martin soared. Every day last week, we received a “best ever”-type report from school. His meltdowns reduced by 90%, I estimate. Though he continued perseverating/obsessing about New York City landmarks and trains (not unusual for kids with spectrum challenges), he was able to snap out of it when requested. Over the weekend, we went skiing with friends. Martin played with their typically developing, seven-year-old son, and his ski instructors referred to working with him as “a joy.”

. . . Which brings us to yesterday, Wednesday. No stellar report came from school. The across-the-board 5’s from his Friday report gave way to a crop of more-usual 2’s and 3’s. Martin came off the bus happy but talking nonsense (“Blurb the dinosaur is on the bus and he might eat us! Look out, it’s a birdjay!”). He spent his trombone lesson dancing about and lying on the floor, challenging even his patient instructor. Then he conducted a 90-minute tantrum based on my refusal to give him an iPad until his math homework was done. (Once he decided to stop crying and do the math ditto, he completed it in approximately 45 seconds. Forty-five tear-filled seconds.) He woke during the night, for three hours. This morning his behaviorist reported that he seemed “off” and “someplace else,” that he was acting goofy, that his fingers were in his nose, or in his pants.

PANDAS flare? I don’t think of Martin as a PANDAS kid, but—. Parasite activity? The full moon was last week, not this week. Detoxing? Increasing MC-Bar-1™ too quickly? Mold exposure? Dietary infraction? Mast cell party? I’ve also been unfocused and “off” this week. Adrian says he has, too. After a terrible report on Martin’s day, his behaviorist followed up with this text: “That said, I’ve been bombarded with phone calls this week. Everyone off.” So who the hell knows?

I texted back: “On a positive note, we have seen a real decrease in meltdowns. I hope that is carrying over to school.”

She replied: “No meltdowns reported or documented.”

I said: “I’m going to hang onto the positive, in that case.”

You take the good, you take the bad

You take them both and there you have

The facts of life, the facts of life.