In our Wednesday night women’s group at church, someone fairly new asked if we had mom cliques—like a group of working moms who were ignored by the stay-at-home moms, and vice versa. We were astonished by this little factoid. Back then, I would host playdates and invite everyone with kids around the same age. One year, we had twenty-five kids here, along with five to seven moms. It wasn’t anything fancy. We just let the kids run wild—splashing in little pools, digging in the sand, and swinging. They always had a blast. They ended up muddy, dirty, and needing to be hosed down from head to toe—probably dunked in a…