What memories do you have of your grandmother? What do you remember about her most? Her baking? Her soft hugs? The sweet songs she sang?
These are common Grandma Superpowers.
Most grandmas have one or two superpowers that their kids will always think of fondly looking back on their lives.
I became a grandma about a year ago. And this little dude lights up my life like no other. However, I don’t bake well. I’m not much of a hugger. And as for my singing, one day, my youngest son asked me why I have to make such a horrible sound.
My superpower is something completely different: my turkey wattle.
I’m not fond of this whole “getting older” thing. While it may be better than the alternative, it is not fun.
Here I am, getting natural silver highlights and lines on my face that make me look like a shar-pei, yet still getting zits! I have thick chin hairs now, yet the hair on my head has gotten so thin it barely covers certain areas.
And let’s talk about gravity over time, shall we? My earlobes can barely hold up a light pair of studs, and my breasts hang like a couple of sad, half-filled hot air balloons. (Notice I said, “half-filled.” I’m not a complete pessimist)
That’s not entirely true. In the spirit of positivity, I should point out that my left breast is trying to stay perky. The other one, though, hangs its metaphorical head in shame.
Speaking of gravity, the bitch, it’s also had quite an effect on the skin between my chin and throat. I have a full-fledged turkey wattle. I spend hours doing face exercises, pushing my tongue against my lower teeth and jutting my jaw forward, to strengthen those neck-skin muscles (probably not a thing). However, I’m convinced that nothing short of a roll of duck tape will ever help.
When my grandson was very little, my turkey wattle was his first real toy. Sure he had rattles and stuffed animals galore, but he didn’t play with those. He would lay in my lap and reach up to push on my neck skin. He would grab it and pull it and squish it.
I guess you could say I was his first Silly Putty.
I tried to stop him at first. It was a bit too humbling to have this baby reminding me of my worst flaw.
But I quickly realized that I made him smile. I made him laugh. I had the superpower to flush out the cranky baby and make him playful. Grabbing for my wattle brought out those first precious smiles and baby giggles.
A lot of babies have the skills to self-soothe. Babies suck their thumbs, use a pacifier, or rub a favorite blanket against their skin. Not my grandson. He does not go to sleep easily.
One evening, I was rocking him and singing to him, trying to get him to go to sleep. He kept screaming and kicking, getting stronger with each minute instead of wearing himself down. I was nearly in tears myself.
I leaned back and looked to the ceiling, trying to blink back my own tears. Suddenly he quieted, and I felt him bat my wattle. He hiccupped a few times with a few shuttering breaths of drama.
He calmed down as he moved my neck skin to the right and let go. Then to the left and let go.
He batted it back and forth, slowly and methodically. My wattle became his soothing mobile.
I watched in amazement as, while he played with my attached toy, his eyes got heavier. Within another five minutes, he was asleep.
It turns out, I have the power of a baby soother.
One morning, I was getting ready for work, thinking about my neck and how much joy it brings to that baby. I started brushing my teeth and watched as my turkey wattle jiggled in the mirror.
I found it more amusing than depressing. I shook my head back and forth quickly and laughed out loud at how funny it looked. (Don’t judge; I hadn’t had my coffee yet.)
The next time EJ was screaming, I remembered the Jello-like structure. I got his attention and shook my neck.
It worked! He stopped crying and started laughing.
Now that is my strongest superpower: the power of laughter. My wattle is my power ring, my Batarang, my Mjolnir hammer.
As much as I dislike the way gravity has taken over my neck, I know that when my grandson looks back on his memories of me, he’ll remember my turkey wattle with fondness.
It is my secret weapon. My superpower.
Sometimes it’s those things you dislike most about yourself that you need to embrace. They’re the features that make you unique and memorable. Somebody loves the thing you hate.
I absolutely LOVE this. The message your story tells is heartwarming, funny, and most all, a good lesson for all to learn. Love that photo of EJ too!