I thought I'd take a few minutes to write down some stuff he does; both for your amusement and so I don't forget all these little nuances.
Breast feeding has been amazing. I am lucky. A lot of women have problems or pains or both. I have been fortunate that I can feed Garrett easily most of the time. It's a joy. It is during his feedings where most of his quirks come out. He almost always has a hand on the back of his head when he's eating. He's practically twirling his hair, elbow bent, enjoying his food. Often, his other hand is balled up in a fist and his cheek is resting on it. Imagine "The Thinker" lying on his back, fist to cheek instead of chin. Other times his hand is on his brow, as if he's shielding his eyes from the bright, bright sun or contemplating life's great mysteries. Then there's the straight forward "Give me my lunch!" with a hand on each side of my boob like he's holding a giant conch shell and yelling, "I have the conch! It's my turn to speak!" And he makes these beautiful sounds. "Eh, eh, eh", or "Mmmm", or "Ah, ah, ah". They're like lullabies.
Sometimes Garrett falls asleep while he's eating and my breast becomes his pillow. I try to take snapshots of him in my mind because I never want to forget what it feels like, having him cuddling up so close to me like that. I usually have to pick him up and move him so I can get some stuff done around the house. As soon as I start to rise, he throws his arms out to the side and lets out a little gasp, as if he's falling from a building. It rarely wakes him up, but it's funny every time. He does the same thing as I'm lowering him into his crib or pack & play.
Every morning between 4:00 and 5:30AM, Garrett wakes up to eat. I am inevitably exhausted, trying to keep my eyes from closing so I can avoid tripping as I walk him into the nursery. After I feed him, I lay him down on the changing table and he begins his pooping ritual. I call it a ritual because it takes anywhere from five to fifteen minutes and a lot of grunting and concentrating, and he does it pretty much the same way every day. I have to stand at the changing table the entire time, because if he ever rolled off I'd shoot myself. As I stand there, wobbly, trying to stay awake, I ask him, "Do you have more poops?" And he smiles so big it's blinding. "Do you have more, you little bugger?", I ask again, and he laughs. He is so amazingly joyful in the wee hours, I think it's the Universe's way of making me love mornings.
Well, that's enough of Garrett Watch for now. It's 3:55 and I've fed him twice and changed him thrice since beginning this entry. He's now sleeping on Russ' chest. Adorable.