Parenting During a Pandemic: From Really Good to Good Grief

My son came home from a week-long stay with his aunt and uncle out of state. All went well. He made homemade ice cream with Aunt Cheryl, went grocery shopping with her, went to the zoo with Uncle Ken, and otherwise settled into a happy routine. Not long after returning home, he dug in on an issue that's popped up on and off for months now, viz., his determination to go back to an amusement park he likes. Not to go on the rides, mind you, but to buy a t-shirt. We've explained to him over and over and over and over and over that Adventureland is closed because of the virus. And no, we don't know when it will re-open. And no, dad's not in charge, so he can't make it re-open. And no, they're not answering the phone this evening because they're closed. And yes, dad will call on Monday and see if he can get more information. And I see my husband's patience getting stretched beyond its limits. And I try to run interference, though Noah insists on asking my husband. Over and over and over and over and over. And even if I give Noah exactly the same answers, that's just not good enough. He can only hear it from my husband. He only wants to hear it from my husband. Who's cooking, with the fire on under several burners as Noah is harassing him about Adventureland, about when it will re-open, and why it's not open, and when can we find out, and when will he call, and why isn't he in charge. And it's impossible not to see an explosion coming. So I reach for the emergency meds. "What's that?" "Your emergency pill." "I don't want that!!" "OK, then you have to calm down." Which leads to a new crescendo in the perseveration, followed by a slight decrease in intensity. All the while I'm thinking that this is never going to get easier and he's only going to get stronger and more determined as we get older and weaker and how is that ever going to end well and my god does this apartment feel like a studio, with all of us living here together. And how is my other son trying to study for the Bar exam with all this chaos, and after an eight hour round trip drive to bring his brother home no less. And why can't we catch a break. Well yes, Noah's week away was a break, but re-entry didn't give us an hour's respite from his craziness. And what if his programs don't come back in person for another year, if ever? How is this going to work? How am I going to keep this nearly 25 year old productively occupied, and how am I going to keep him from driving us to the edge of and over into insanity? He's still at it, still pinging from my husband to his brother to me, asking about when he can find out about the gift shop, about the t-shirt. I keep telling him that we'll call again on Monday, and maybe someone can tell him how he can get a t-shirt. In the midst of all this nuttiness, I distracted him briefly by giving him a shave of all things. Anything to get him away from my husband and the gas burners in the kitchen. Now there's a full court press to try to get him interested in buying a different shirt, one you can buy online, unlike from the gift shop at Adventureland, which of course doesn't have an online buying option. Because the cosmos apparently hates us. Because if there's a way to make things even more stressful for us, it seems the universe will find it. Because devotion, love, humor, distraction, pleading, and more devotion, love, humor, distraction, and pleading just aren't enough. And because our frayed nerves apparently need to be stretched beyond their human limits. And why not, in the midst of a pandemic, with everything about life disrupted, and with new, lingering COVID after effects, including extreme exhaustion, which make dealing with my son's torture-like perseveration that much harder. And just like that--or at least for however many minutes it takes to place the order--we get a reprieve. Noah's been convinced to get a different t-shirt. It seems he's settled on a Count von Count t-shirt. And now we'll move on to the perseveration about when exactly that t-shirt will arrive. On which day, at which time, and why is it late? And why hasn't it come yet? And when it will it get here? And repeat. And Noah won't lose interest in the Adventureland t-shirt--because he NEVER forgets anything--but maybe we're buying ourselves some time. Maybe we're buying some calm. Or maybe we're just deluding ourselves. We've starred in this movie so many times that the only reliable thing is knowing that it will repeat.