Tags
antiques, boy, boys, cars, child, children, family, kids, lectures, life, materialistic, moral, motherhood, old soul, teen
Illyan is my youngest child, (so far) and calls himself Ian. I call him Ian Bein or Ian Bean. His brother calls him Alien since Illyan with an American accent sounds an awful lot like Alien. I called him Ian Bean origionally because he was so tiny when he was born and remained tiny well into his later childhood years. He was premature and barely 5 pounds. He didn’t really start to grow until 8 or 9 years old and then it was slower growth compared to his siblings.
Around 5 or 6 years old Illyan was trying to say big words. He still has trouble with speech, which has lead to years of adorable mistakes, but back then it was normal mistakes. I remember one time he came running into the front room all excited with his bigger sister chasing behind and giggling, saying “No, no, no Ian.”
He looked back at her with a shit eating grin and then looked at me and asked, “Do girls have a fungina?”
“A what?” I was taken a bit by surprise as I wasn’t sure what he said. I looked at my daughter for clarification, but she was beet red and laughing as she turned and ran back in the room. Meanwhile the rest of his sisters came to watch in the doorway as they giggled. Imagine three females, with pony tails bobbing, hanging in a doorway, giggling at this adorable little boy.
“Do girls have a fungina and boys have a penis?” He clarified.
“Oh!” I laughed once I figured out what he was saying. “Do girls have a fungina?” I repeated back to him. He nodded enthusiastically. I was laughing too hard to even correct his speech, “Um,” I searched for the right words, “I guess that is the correct term sort of…it’s a new way to say it, but yeah.”
He ran away and said, “See! See! Mom said I was right.” I could hear his victorious little yell from halfway across the house at his older sister. Later, I found out that his older sister was trying to correct his speech…not give him a biology lesson. Apparently, his older brother let him in on the fact that girls and boys are different.
Illyan is what I would call a 70 year old man in a teenagers body. He likes old things, antiques, that are well made and classy. He wants a 50’s chevy with the flared wings or a 60’s mustang (ah me too boy, me too) or a 70’s Pontiac Firbird an 80’s GMC Eagle. The kid has taste when it comes to cars. He even likes the older appliances, houses, everything except clothing. Well he likes old clothing, but like really old, like think the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. I was watching a movie of ladies in the Victorian Era and he was like, “Mom why don’t ladies dress so nicely anymore? Why don’t you dress like that?”
I chuckled a bit and said, “Most ladies have to work outside the home now, those dresses are very cumbersom, and they are very expensive.”
He nodded as if he understood, sighed and said, “Ladies worked outside of the home then.” Mind you, he had almost no proper history lessons. That is mostly due to focusing on the basics, but he still knew women worked outside of the home “back then.”
“Yes dear,” I countered, “but the rules for working have changed. In some jobs it’s against the law to dress like that because it is dangerous to women. They might catch fire, have their dress get caught, or get snagged into a machine.”
He continued, “but you would look so beautiful dressed like those ladies mom. Don’t you think so?”
I smiled and agreed, but oh the work to wear those dresses. He pointed out the “Gentlemen Suits” which were the typical stove pipe hat and whatnot suits. He said he wanted one of those. I laughed and promised if my sewing skills ever got good enough I would make one. Truth is, I doubt I will ever be able to sew that well. He is in love with the “Gentlemen Suit”. Even if I did sew it, I wonder if he would ever wear it?
Sometimes he feels decades older than me. It really sets in when he starts lecturing me on how irresponsible I am for throwing away good plastic butter dishes that you get for free when you buy the butter…grandpa vibes. “All these good things, you just throw away. What if we can’t get them anymore?” He went through the Great Depression thrice, I swear by all that is holy, this boy has lived many past lives in deep poverty. On a more serious note, ONLY really old people when I was a CHILD spoke like that about “good plastic butter dishes” you got for free. He speaks a lot like my old father actually..it’s haunting, but in a good way.
He is very careful with all that you give him that he deems valuable. What he deems valuable is a bit odd though. If you give him a Sunday suit, he will never wear it for fear he will ruin it. However, he will rescue glass jars from the kitchen trash, wash, and reuse them for bb’s, screws, nails, and little items he collects. He values things, and sees them as valuable resources, but he also values people very highly.
His sister gave him a 1980s toaster oven, with a broken knob, that dings repeatedly whether or not your food is done. It still heats food and it has a little rack in it. She gave it to him because he loved the sound of the ding, but she couldn’t stand it. He took it home, washed it inside and out, repaired some screws, dug around in MY dishes, and comandered the dishes that fit inside it for himself. He was so proud of his “first major appliance” at 12 years old. He is still so proud of it and protective of it that if me or my husband uses it without his permisison or doesn’t clean it to his satisfaction afterwards, we get a lecture and BOY can he lecture. He could be a preacher with his lectures. He can go on a three hour tangent based on one sentence. He has a calling with that, I am just not sure what it is yet.
When I pointed out that his toaster oven was just a little broken, and so would he like a new one for Christmas or his birthday, he said it was okay. Besides, his toaster oven would feel rejected if he got rid of it for a nice shiny new one. It was the most adorable thing ever. I said, “Okay, but later I might still buy you one, but that one will have to go if I do.” Oh man, that was a connundrum. Getting rid of a functioning toaster oven, just because he would get a new one without a broken knob? It almost made his little head explode. In the end he told me not to waste my money since he has a perfectly fine toaster oven. I could tell though, he really wanted a new shiny chrome looking one, with deeper shelves and TWO shelevs…he noticed the two shelves. He was dreaming about all he could cook in there. Oh, and it might use normal pans too! I still may get him one when I get the cash just to see his little heart pitter patter.
He’s the kind of little guy that if you give him something and he values it, he isn’t afraid to show he likes what you gave. In my culture growing up among the plain people, that was called pride, and it was a sin. Loving your material items was frowned on and having very nice material items was a bigger sin. An insult, well back handed insult, was when the nice church lady hugs you and says, “Well, my don’t you look fancy!” That was a descrete way of letting you know that you look prideful. It was a slap in the face and all the older ladies would line up to let you know with their facial expressions that they thought they were better than you, humbler than you, for their plainer attire. Yeah, I know…it’s assinine. I still suffer from the delusion I must be plain to be humble at times. Thankfully, my son can take pleasure with everything that is given, because I have not attached such unhealthy attitudes towards material items.
However, I would not call him materialistic. He values people that value him above all else. He can be HIGHLY critical of others and has a natural inborn extremely conservative moral compass. However, he will move heaven and hell for the ones he loves. I have seen him do amazing things when I am in a spot. He is a constant source of encouragement and love, even when I don’t ask for it. He randomly says, “I love you mom” through out the day.
I asked why one time, why do you always tell me I love you? His response was nothing short of amazing.
“I know you weren’t loved a lot as a kid. I want you to know at least I love you.” When I asked why that was important to him he answered, “because you showed me so much love when I was little. You was my seeing eye dog for a little while until I got glasses. I couldn’t have lived without you.” When I told him that’s just what a mom is supposed to do he just smiled and said, “I know, I just want you to know I love you.” So in the end, that’s just what his heart wants to convey.
Ian wants to be a mechanic when he grows up. I want him to be a priest. His father doesn’t care as long as he can get a job. I have been saving as much as I can over the past couple years in a 529 account for him to go to school. I may roll it into an ABLE account if I can get him recognized as disabled legally. This would give him a few extra years to get to the point he can go to community college. I have the medical proof, but I never put in the paperwork for the federal government. I have a lot of issues with doing that since he is classified as developmentally disabled. I don’t want to have it used against him if he wants to vote, have children, own a gun, or anything else that is his right. My country has an attrocious history against people with different abilities. I hope I can resolve this issue soon.