I don’t feed my kids crap. It’s not as if I pour Kool-Aid down their throats. I make healthy dinners. Yes, we do have Chips Ahoy! cookies in the pantry, Eggo waffles in the freezer, and kid-friendly cereals for breakfast—but so does most of America, so leave me alone.

I said as much, too, and I don’t know if it was my delivery or the fact that I was really hurt, but it took us a few weeks to work through that. We can joke about it now, but I wouldn’t want to fight with her again. It’s hard enough fighting with your spouse. You don’t want to fight with your friends.

“I don’t know how you do it, Jackie,” Nic says slightly enviously as she takes in the miniature decorated tree on the counter, the appetizers, the burning candles, the crisp pink-, red-, and green-striped cocktail napkins. “I can barely get my teeth brushed sometimes, and here you are, looking amazing, hosting a glamorous party on your own. How do you do it?”

I shrug, flattered but uncomfortable. I’ve spent days doing this, days I should have been working at my desk, but sometimes my priorities get mixed up. Sometimes I want everyone to be so happy because then I think I’ll be happy. I know it doesn’t work like that, but I can’t seem to change.

“Talked to Daniel lately?” Kristine asks. Kristine, the former lawyer (her husband is still a lawyer), is also a mother, homemaker, and now nonprofit volunteer extraordinaire. Kristine’s always co-chairing a fund-raiser, calls me usually on her way to or from one of her committee meetings.

Kristine learned early in our friendship that I don’t do committees. I’m happy to donate my time, do a job, cut a check—just don’t make me sit around with a bunch of women who look like me and talk like me and try to come to a joint consensus.

“It’s been a few days,” I say, struggling to pop the cork on the champagne and finally succeeding.

“How is that?”

“Fine, I suppose.” I pour everyone flutes of champagne. “We don’t talk long. It’s stilted again. I don’t know why.”

“At least you’re talking again,” Nic answers. Nic’s sensitive and wants everyone to always be happy. She was a teacher before she had kids and stays home now with hers.

“I’m trying.” I watch the bubbles fizz and pop in my flute. “I think he’s trying, too. We both love the kids.”

“Is he still talking about moving to San Jose?” Kristine asks.

I shake my head. “Not lately. His girlfriend’s spending more time up here.”

For a moment no one says anything, and then Nic volunteers that she bumped into Daniel and Melinda at Whole Foods yesterday. “She seems really nice,” Nic concludes awkwardly.