Why We are Autism, Apples and Kool-Aid

If you have followed us for a while, you know the story, but I am often asked why I chose such an odd name for my blog and my book. I hope you are ready for a laugh!

I had dreamed about writing a book for years, but never seemed to find the time. I had even kicked around titles, thinking that might inspire me to get started. I had no idea that a messy, anger-filled day would be the name I chose.

Rob was 12 and we had just finished remodeling our dining room. I was downstairs doing laundry when I heard weird noises coming from that room. Rumbles... crashes ... splashes... I actually stood there a minute wondering what it could be before I took off up the stairs.

I stopped like I hit a brick wall. Red Kool-aid was dripping off the ceiling fan blades. Red was running down my white walls. Liquid was dripping from my curtains. And Rob was giggling. I looked over to see plastic tumblers filled to the brim with Kool-Aid lined up on my table and Rob winding up to throw another apple at the cups. I yelled, "Don't throw that....." but he did. His aim was perfect and another cup flew in the air and sprayed red Kool-Aid everywhere. I just stood there.

Luckily, I heard him grab another apple and I was quick enough to catch him before he threw it. He giggled, gave me a big hug and took off to play in his room. I got mad. I was beyond furious! Why would he do such a thing? I was cussing like a sailor as I started cleaning up the mess. I jerked the curtains down and wiped at the walls and windows. I still can't believe I didn't break something as I grumbled and mumbled not so nice words under my breath.

By the time I got done, I was steaming and still furious. I was done with autism. No way could I handle stuff like this for the rest of my life. As I threw the rags away, I hit the ceiling fan switch to help me cool off - only to realize I hadn't cleaned those blades and drips of Kool-aid flew all over the room again.

The words I yelled then aren't suitable for anyone to read. I have rarely been that angry. And now I was really done with autism. I gave up - it would win. I was done.

After I finally got the mess cleaned up again, I called my mom and vented to her. She reminded me it was just a bad day and bad days always get better. Not that I believed her right then, but she was right.

Later, it hit me. I had the title for my book. Welcome to Autism, Apples and Kool-aid!