If you’re struggling today, and having to pry your eyes wide with toothpicks just to make it to dinner, there is a simple explanation. I’d like to complicate things and tell you that it’s the economy, or the environment, but not everything can be blamed on politics you know. Yes, thankfully it doesn’t take 51 senators to pass a bill to tell you that… well, it’s Monday. Thankfully!

Monday, for most people, means going back to work. I am a Mom…and a freelance writer and editor so I don’t have a 4-door sedan, fully loaded with a cup holder for my handy dandy Starbucks to-go cup . I do have a chipped mug filled with hot water, containing a lifeless and limp, bobbing decaf tea bag (gotta love pregnancy), sitting on my nightstand… Ok, yeah I know, it’s just not the same.

The benefit of being a WAHM is that I don’t have to see people. I mean, I see people…like the Gina the mail lady and Phillip the UPS guy…through the window. Perhaps it’s a one-way street to looney-ville, but I like it this way. Maybe that’s the writer in me – the behind-the-scenes, don’t like to be front-and-center…or maybe it only indicates that my future life as a shut-in, with a cranky fat cat named “Bermuda” is only months away. You saw “Ugly Betty” last week, right?

Since my morning meetings are sponsored by 1-800-conference call, and eating breakfast in my office often means egg and toast in bed, there is one thing in this job as a WAHM that cannot be beat. No matter if I’m doing online research at 3:00am, whacking the rug with a broomstick in the early morning or stirring the soup for dinner (whether that be dancing or actual soup), no one can beat my uniform.

Every job has a uniform – Executives have Armani and $350 leather briefcases, surgeons have scrubs and non-static footies… and Moms have pajamas. That’s right, pajamas. People make fun of us and say we “let ourselves go” but I think it’s simple jealousy, and not slander. Don’t tell me that Jim, the VP of Sales, wouldn’t give his left arm to waltz into his presentation in flannel plaid. I bet even Donald Trump wouldn’t mind a day with bunny slippers, a t-shirt and briefs (because he just doesn’t seem like a boxers-adorned-with-smiley-faces kind of guy).

Ever try running after a toddler with 3-inch spikes on? I lived in Boca Raton, Florida and I’ve seen everything; it isn’t pretty. Moms flailing about, hands grasped tightly around the handles of their red Bugaboo strollers as they limp in their Gucci and Prada… I’m such a simple Mom in comparison.

Sure, I’ll don a pair of heels for an outing with the girls, and I’d definitely show a little leg for a date night with the hubby (when that happens once a year or so) but for now…I’m good in my comfy Croft & Barrow from Kohls. Pajama Mamas unite, because pj’s are officially at the top of my BFF list!