Frustration x 2 = Growth. Part Two

Her rebuttal to my interrogation started as I expected. "You don't understand. You're not there to see how she talks to us. Plus I'm tired. My phone's not working. My dad doesn't trust me. I'm frustrated with school and classes." It went on and on. When I had the chance I asked questions. I remained calm amazingly. I guess I felt bad. All of a sudden I could remember what it was like to be 13. I always joke with her and tell her everything seems like a BIG deal when your that age but this time I could actually feel her stress. I guess I had gotten used to dealing with sudden burst of overwhelming frustration in my life. She was only 13 and didn't have that experience to know everything has a solution.
I reached out for her hand as tears ran from her face and kissed it. I held her hand on my face. "I'm not mad at you baby." I said. I kissed her hand again. "It's going get better mami. I can help. You just got to make some decisions."
We went on to discuss responsibility and being a team player. The fact that she's always going to have someone that's difficult in her life was also touched on. I explained that she needs to communicate better with her coach and her dad. She needed to continue being a good person though her situation was against her. Her coach couldn't think she was being harsh on her if in return all she did was slack and disrespect. Her father couldn't realize she was being truthful and open if she decided not to speak to him in anger.
My drive home is about 25 minutes. When we arrived my sister, her kids, and my mother were home. Friday nights are kind of a new tradition. This seemed only to frustrate her more. Putting on a happy face for others is always a challenge. In my family especially. We're pretty proud when it comes to showing vulnerability. She wiped her face and I blinked quickly to remove any trace from my own welling of tears. We stepped out the car, walked in together and greeted our family.
It took her a moment but eventually things resumed to normal. Before I knew it she was talking on the phone, as usual (though it was my mothers) but things were calm. The teenagedom had been returned to peace after potential collapse.
As parents we go through things but so do our kids. My problems, though at times feel more important than my daughters, are not. Atleast they should seem like it.