HAHA Echo your mini rant made me laugh. But laughs aside, what a burden. What a burden! Kinda makes me angry, reading about it.
My take on the meeting (for what it's worth) is that it IS great that he went to a meeting. It might be for the wrong reason, but he's there. It's a start in the right direction. Odds are sure better of him starting to "get it" in a meeting than they are under the bridge with his friends. So I'd definitely acknowledge it.
Again, my take on this situation, from what little I know, so please ignore if I am off base. Some of our difficult children really DON'T care who they hurt. They are great at pushing OUR "care" buttons when they need something, but deep down inside THEY don't care. It seems to me that your son is definitely NOT one of those difficult children. It seems to me that he sees you hurting and he genuinely cares about that. The song and the quote don't really change anything about his situation, but he is trying to communicate something honest. He is trying to help you understand each other better.
And the quote and the song really are very sweet and thoughtful.
And this is exactly the point when my limit-setting alarm goes off. Because this is the part where I start to remember the "chubby sticky fingers in the hair" kind of stuff, and I start responding to him as if he IS that little guy, instead of the man he needs to be.
I saw my son this weekend, our usual Sunday afternoon visit. He's doing really well, I'm happy to report. The biggest change in him is that he is learning to let go of his resentments more quickly. He has some pretty heavy stuff (for him) going on right now. He still gets very upset about something, but he vents a bit and then he lets it go. I give AA the credit for that.
And fortunately I've learned from the wise moms at this site not to jump right in there when he has a crisis.
Between my increased lag time and his decreased meltdown time, it turns out there is actually a block of time in there where he figures it out himself! How about that!
So we went to the beach and a movie and then took him back to the halfway house and we had our usual hugs and see ya next week kind of stuff. He was walking up the sidewalk and I was getting in the car and he turned around and said, "I love you, Mom" and we exchanged a look that told me he had seen it too, that our usual way of interacting had shifted (at least for that day -- I'm sure I'll find something new to glom onto tomorrow).
It's such a tightrope, to keep that tenderness in my heart without letting any of that sugary goo ooze out.
