The morning started like any other: me, in pajamas that hadn't seen the inside of a washing machine in a questionable amount of time, herding the kids to their respective corners of semi-controlled madness. The three dogs were barking at the UPS guy as though he were an ancient rival. The cats? Two were eyeing the fish tank with evil-intent and the third was perched on my keyboard. Naturally.

The world outside, meanwhile, had apparently lost its mind. Alien ships hovered ominously in the sky blotting out the sun, sending traffic into gridlock. News alerts screamed "probable invasion", but we ignored them. After all, the aliens tended to just fly-by with no incident frequently while mainstream media harassed the masses with invasion watches, severity/probability colors and warnings. Just another alert system to add alongside the 5% chance of rain notifications. But it was 9:55am, and I had a very important meeting for work at 10.

"Mom! She took my Lego!"

"Did not!"

"Mom! One of the dogs ate the remote again!"

"Mom! I need glue for my project and I'm hungry."

I pointed vaguely at the junk drawer while muting myself just in time for my boss to say, "Lets dive right in."

The dogs howled in agreement.

I shoved the cat off my keyboard and plastered on my corporate work face which oozed with "lets circle back on that" and "to piggyback off of what whatshisname said" written all over it. My camera wobbled like I was broadcasting LIVE from an earthquake.

"Is everything okay over there?" my boss asked, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, just a small...uh...technical glitch. Please continue." Then the doorbell rang.

"Mom! An alien or shapeshifter is here!" the kids screamed.

"No, it's probably just the neighbor and what did I say about labeling them if you are unsure of their exact nature? Just say Aliens or..."

BOOM!

The entire house shook. Through the window, I saw an oval ship descending onto our front yard. My internet held strong, but the Wi-Fi router blinked as if to threaten its stability, or maybe even it couldn't handle this level of nonsense.

"Mom, one of them is coming to the door!" my eldest yelled, looking way too excited. "Can I let them in?"

"No." I whisper-shouted, frantically typing, "Sorry, unstable internet connection" into the meetings chat while still trying to look professional on camera.

The alien at the door was surprisingly polite. Since the "Awakening" and their merging with us out in the open on the planet, they are a lot like Humans. Some are very sweet and charming while others are abrasive and ornery. Our dogs were of course losing their minds.

Meanwhile, the meeting carried on. I managed to unmute just in time to contribute, "I completely agree, strategic alignment is key," while simultaneously shoving two dogs into the laundry room to mask their festival of barks concert.

"Mom the alien says it just wants a cup of sugar." my eldest announced.

"A cup of WHAT?!" I shouted. I thought sugar harmed their skin or whatever the news said during a two-minute "Do's and Don'ts for Aliens" segment.

"Sugar."

Naturally, my Husband chose this exact moment to walk in, covered in dirt from some emergency home improvement DIY project. He took one look at the alien on the porch, sighed and grabbed the sugar jar. "I've got it," he muttered.

Because that's him. The guy who's going to save us all by baking cookies with extraterrestrials.

By the time the meeting ended, the invasion had been downgraded to "friendly neighborhood exchange program." on our block. The kids were eating translucent snacks, the cats were suspiciously quiet, and a dog was wearing what appeared to be a glowing collar.

And me? I finally got a moment to sip my cold coffee, now breathing with confidence as somehow, I had survived another work meeting.