Hangry

As far back as I can remember, Jacob didn’t want to sleep.  At five days old, he was squirming and yanking his protective eyewear off at Lucille Packard Children’s Hospital under the jaundice lights.  I didn’t sleep the entire night.  Neither did he.

As he got older, he would fight sleep with every ounce of his being.  The second I’d lay him in his crib he would pop back up like toast.  There were nights where he had to sleep in the baby swing just to save our sanity.  To this day, he has challenged, fought, avoided, and protested the idea of nap time no matter how hard I try.  Except at school, rarely any problems there.  Of course.

When he was a toddler I remember knock-down-drag-out brawls as I tried to rock him to sleep and he tried to escape… his determination was unyielding.  And believe me, we were in a similar weight class.

When he was two he told Grandma “I don’t sleep.”  He truly believed that to be an unquestioned fact.

At four, I found myself passing his dark room at 10pm, only to see a glassy-eyed, polterguist-like child staring back at me with his sleep-deprived zombie stare.

At five, James noticed that when he’s getting sleepy, he deliberately gets up and does something to stay awake.

I think since the beginning of time it has stemmed from FOMO: Fear of Missing Out.  And since I’m throwing around the hip new lingo, my sister-in-law, Erin, just taught me the perfect new vocabulary word: hangry.  It fits Jacob perfectly.  It’s when one’s level of hunger overtakes one’s ability to reason and is replaced by frustrated anger.  He also gets mad when he’s tired… tirate if you will.  I just invented that.  Maybe I need to submit that to the urban dictionary?

Nate has always been the exact opposite.  When he gets tired he gets silly.  Nonna noticed it before his first birthday. I think her exact words might have been, “When he’s sleepy it’s like he’s drunk.” If Jake is a fighter, Nate is a lover.  I’d liken it to those people that get really lovey when they’ve been drinking; “I love you man” kind of guys.  When he’s sleepy he gives me a lot of kisses and likes to rub noses.  He spontaneously exclaims, “I lub you Mama.  You’re so beautiful.”  I’ve never had much trouble talking him into falling asleep.  Every so often he cries and resists, but he acquiesces pretty easily.

This past weekend he started to push back on mandatory nap time as well.  We swam for several hours at the pool and then on the way home, he started protesting the inevitable, “I don’t want to sleep.  Why Jakey don’t have to take a nap?”

“Look, Jakey is five and he has to rest and play quietly.  Plus I have spent five years fighting him and I give up.”  I left that last part unsaid.  I continued, “Why would we name you Napthaniel if you weren’t supposed to take naps?”

“I’m not Nap-taniel.”

“What?  Sure you are.  We call you Napthaniel because you love taking naps.”

“I’m not Nap-taniel.  I’m Nate!”

Uh oh… I think I’ve made him hangry.  Or tirate.

See?  It’s already catching-on.