My daughter’s 8th birthday party was ruined because her best friend, Ana, didn’t show up. My daughter started to cry and even refused to cut the cake. I called the mom over 10 times, but there was no answer.

Two hours later, they arrived. Her mom said, “Sorry, I had a last-minute urgent work call.” I said, “You can go back, it will teach you and Ana to be on time.”
Ana smiled. She handed me the gift she had brought and got in the car.
They drove back home.

Later, I froze in shock when I found out Ana’s mother had made a long post online, shaming me for not allowing them inside the party. She claimed that, since I am a housewife and not a working mother like her, I don’t understand the urgency of work.
To me, that wasn’t just an excuse — it was an insult. It implied that being a housewife is easy, that I sit around all day doing nothing important, and that I could never grasp what “real responsibility” looks like.

When I went to pick up my daughter that afternoon, I could see the other mother staring at me.

How did I end up being the one in the wrong when she was the one who showed up late in the first place?