Elara

Time, time, time – why is there never enough time?

"Have more coffee and breathe. You got this," I remind myself.

In fact, I've always got this. That's why people seek out to hire me. That's why I'm so busy because no one can do it quite like me.

I take a moment to fix my hair in the mirror that hangs in my home office. I'm getting a video call soon, and I want to look my best. Then I check the time.

"Zora, set a ten-minute timer," I call out to my virtual assistant.

"Timer set for ten minutes," Zora replies.

"Thank you," I reply, thinking I have enough time to reply to that z-mail about the pony-themed party. They really haven't thought that one through.

Do they not realize that ponies poop a lot? I'm not sure the smell would be appreciated as they tuck into their handmade cupcakes.

Unicorns! That's the answer. Mythical beasts cannot poop, that I know for sure. But you can buy them and pump air into them, then let them float around a room decorated with rainbows and twinkling stars. Tack on a few dancers and fire breathers, and you, dear client, have got yourself a party.

I quickly write down my counter-proposal in all its glory, hit send, and I would give myself a high five if I could.

"This is your ten-minute timer, this is your ten-minute timer," Zora announces.

"Thank you, Zora," I say.

"Would you like me to set another timer?" Zora replies.

"No, thank you," I chirp as an email pings back at me, telling me that my unicorn idea is the best thing ever and that they would like to move forward with it.

"Yes!" I shout out as I do a victory twirl on my chair.

"Incoming video call, incoming video call, would you like to answer?" Zora announces.

"Yep, I sure would, Zora," I reply.

I swing my chair around as the screen before me flashes to life. I make sure I have a big smile on my face.

"Hey, guys!" I give a little wave at the suits in front of me and push a bunch of positivity their way.

", great to have you in the room," one of them says in that over-dramatic corporate way that makes no sense whatsoever, but we all play along. Mentally, I decide to call him Suit One.

"Great to be here," I reply.

"We'll cut straight to the chase, ," the suit to his right says. Mentally, I make him Suit Two. "We had a meeting this morning."

Of course, you did, and probably a breakfast one after spending two hours at the gym while your wife got your kids out of bed, dressed them, made them breakfast, and then drove them to school.

"Great," I exclaim.

"We got HR to run a study after the party you organized for us back in the summer, and the stats speak for themselves," Suit Two says.

"Gotta trust the stats," Suit One adds.

"Gotta trust those stats," I reply.

"Staff morale has been up fifty percent since then. That is a lot, I'm sure you will agree," Suit One adds.

"Sure seems like it to me," I say with an even bigger grin.

"Exactly, you're on page as ever, , and that's what we love about you," Suit One says.

"Right on that page, guys," I state.

"Thing is," Suit Two says, "Morale seems to have dropped in the last week, which, as you know, directly correlates to productivity,"

"I thought it was just up fifty percent?" I ask with a frown.

Suit Two shrugs. "And now it's back down. That's the business world for you."

"We're losing sales, . We're losing sales," Suit One says, holding his head in his hands. Suit Two gives him a reassuring pat on the back.

"I'll take it from here, Jeff," Suit Two says. Finally, a name!

"Please do, Jeff, I am all ears," I say.

"We need a party, , and not just any party. We need one of your parties, and I'll be honest here, , you have us by the balls," Jeff says.

"Not something I'd ever do intentionally," I clarify.

"Apologies. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I am sure an incident would never occur where you have us by the balls," Jeff says.

"I hope not," I say.

"Jeeze, I'm digging my own grave here, aren't I," Jeff says.

"It's fine, Jeff. Let me take this from here and run it up your flag pole," I tell them.

"We're in your hands," Jeff says.

"Guys, relax. Look, what you need is a party, and I can organize the best party you have ever had. Trust me, productivity will go through the roof," I promise.

"Hot damn!" Jeff shouts. "Hustle! Hustle!" he calls out, elbowing Suit One and grinning like a fool.

"Hustle! Hustle! That's what we do," Suit One says, grinning just as broadly.

"You name your price, , and you stick it to us right up the ass!" Jeff says.

"Jeff?" Suit One says. Jeff gives him an embarrassed grin.

"Listen, Jeff and…" Give me a name….

"Trevor," Suit One tells me.

"Listen, Jeff and Trevor, you boys have got yourself a deal," I tell them.

The door to my office bursts open, and Dimitri and Rosie, my children, enter with their mischievous laughter. I swing around on my chair with a look on my face that every parent alive who works from home has pulled.

But my heart melts as Rosie begins nudging Dimitri. His big eyes look up at me with love, and my face soon melts into a smile.

"The winner of the event planning queen of the year goes to, drumroll!" he shouts, and Rosie launches into a bad but enthusiastic drumroll as she produces a patchwork made-with-love crown from behind her back.

They both shout, "Mom!" as I am awarded the crown. The love in my heart threatens to flow over as I accept their crown and place it on my head.

"That's the sweetest thing I've ever seen," Jeff says.

I realize I am still on the video call, but I could honestly care less. This is just how my life is, after all. My business, my kids, and me. It's all one big pot I am cooking that keeps dishing out love and hard work. If you don't like the taste, eat elsewhere.

"This is Dimitri and this is Rosie. Kids, these nice men are Jeff and Trevor," I say, bringing the kids in front of me.

"Mighty pleased to meet you kids. You sure got one great Mom there," Jeff says.

"I'll get started planning that party for you guys. You can leave it all safe with me," I tell Jeff and Trevor.

"Wonderful, we'll leave it all," Jeff says as I watch Trevor give him a nudge. "On your desk."

Both Jeff and Trevor grin.

"Consider it done," I tell them, "Zora, end the video call."

They disappear, still grinning from my screen.

"Would you like me to call someone else?" Zora asks.

"Nope, my work here is done," I reply.

"Would you like me to suggest some downtime activities for you and the kids?" Zora asks.

"It's okay, I got this covered," I reply, making a mental note to get rid of Zora.

I stand up. "Alright, you two, Mommy is very upset. You gate crashed my meeting," I tell them, their little eyes looking at me in confusion.

"We're sorry, Mommy," Rosie says hesitantly.

"Do you know what this means?" I ask them.

"No, Mommy," Dimitri says.

I puff out my chest, "I have to turn into Super Mommy Event Planner!" I call out, raising my arms. "And rid the world of children who get in my way!"

They both scream and run from the office. I follow, pulling a throw from the top of the sofa and wrapping it around my neck like a cloak.

I watch as they duck down and try to hide under the dining room table.

"I could have planned all the parties if it hadn't been for those pesky kids!" I call out as Dimitri lets out a nervous yelp from under the table.

I creep over to the table. "My Super Mommy Event Planner senses tell me children are near," I say. I hear Rosie giggle under the table.

I slowly edge away from the table. "I think they are hiding in the cabinet," I call out as I whip open the cabinet door. Rosie giggles again.

"But how can my senses be wrong?" I call out.

"They are, they are," I hear Dimtri whisper.

And then I pounce. Dimitri and Rosie shriek as I grab them both, and we all fall to the ground with laughter.

Then my phone pings with a message and I read the amount Jeff and Trevor have sent me for the next job.

I am a Super Mommy Event Planner, and I hold Dimtri and Rosie close, knowing it will be okay.