Rock the Boat.

Sandler’s first day home from the hospital was merely a pit stop to gather necessities in preparation to return and manage his jaundice. I ran upstairs to throw some essentials together. I left him and his tiny body hooked up to his oxygen—under the watch of his four year old sister [Bootsie]—thinking they would be fine. It was only going to take me a minute to return with some fresh clothes. As I bolted down the stairs to get everyone back into the car, I was stopped by my peripherals. Bootsie was holding Sandler completely upside down—oxygen tubes and all—telling him what a handsome brother he was. In order not to scare her, I slowly walked over to flip him upright. I agreed he was handsome, but he looks even better when he is not hanging by his ankles. It was that moment I realized Sandler had no chance of being a delicate flower.

Fast forward past the yellow skin, oxygen tank, feeding tubes, multiple, invasive surgeries, years of every kind of therapy imaginable, and thriving through more odds than most humans will ever endure in a lifetime, little Sandler became mighty. He is tougher than any kid I know. It is evident every time he falls skateboarding or on the playground. The typical reaction is to wait for him to burst out crying or yell for his mom, but that occurs few and far between. Usually, he gets right back up and tries it again; striving for perfection with every new attempt.

Recently Sandler and I had taken a mental health day (meaning we needed to have a mom and Sandler session at the skatepark). To my surprise, he went directly over to the deep end of the big bowl—which he had not done in a while—and went for it. Unfortunately, he sailed straight over his board and pretty much swan dove eight feet onto his face. He lost his glasses and shifted his helmet. It looked like a yard sale at the bottom of the bowl. My heart stopped, but I did not want him to sense my utter concern. I asked if he was okay. He responded with, “Huh… I better try that again.” That he did. He executed it absolutely flawlessly the next go.

That kind of fearlessness needs to be commended. It will take him places most of us can only dream of going.  However, it is also that courageous instinct that keeps me on my toes. It reminds me, as his mom, that I cannot take my eyes off of him for one second. I have always enjoyed traveling. Before I had children, I knew I wanted to share adventures with them. Once Sandler was mobile, and his gallant personality was apparent, it was never quite “relaxing” to go on a trip. He took the word “break” out of any holiday we ever tried to take. 

One day, as I enviously listened to everyone making their “Ski Week” plans, I thought about where we could go and what we could do that would be somewhat relaxing and enjoyable. I suddenly had the great idea of a cruise! Yes, a cruise seemed like a brilliant idea. We would be contained on a vessel. As long as I avoided getting a room with a balcony, what could possibly go wrong? We boarded the ship with those who needed extra time in order to avoid getting lost in the masses. We were the first to the pool with chairs, ice cream, drink delivery service, and a plethora of attendees who knew us by name. They even knew our special needs just for an added feeling of security. Soon the whistle blew and we set sail on our adventure.

We were the first awake in the mornings and the first to bed at night to avoid the exciting adult activities that could get us into trouble. We also avoided getting off the ship. We had been to the ports. Being on a fairly empty cruise seemed more relaxing; there was plenty to do in the mean time. The cruise director did not disappoint either. In fact, he entertained the kids with limbo contests, a corn hole toss, and a conga line to boot. Who could get into trouble with such activities? I will give you a guess…  

The conga music had started and the line was rocking. I was taking a few pictures and cheering on the festivity. One minute Sandler was in the conga line and the next he was not. It took a team of eighty security staffers, circulating the ship, wielding printed photos, forty-five minutes to track him down. He was found in a pool—swimming with a kid he had never met—referring to him as, “His best ‘fwend’ in the whole wide world.” I held my breath for the entirety of those forty-five minutes and my hair went completely grey. Though, that is only one of a million galvanizing situations he will put me through in this life time. That is Sandler. A guy who looks danger in the eyes and says, “Send It.”