I’m not always a good sleeper. Actually, I am a great sleeper when I can actually get to sleep. It is the getting there that I struggle with the most. More nights than I care to recall have been spent watching the clock. Minutes slowly changing into hours until I am convinced my clock must be broken for time to be moving so slowly. Surely, sixty seconds cannot last that long.

So I lay there and toss and turn unable to get comfortable. I kick off the covers for about five minutes until my feet get cold then I pull them back up and try to snuggle into them only to repeat the process moments later.

Tonight as I tossed and turned and kicked at the covers and sighed at the obviously broken clock, I realized I probably couldn’t sleep because I was so overdressed. I had not taken off my many outfits from the day. You know the ones we as women wear that overlap in so many layers that we become a fashion “Don’t.� One outfit on top of the other which layers on top of even more because in one day we need each ot them all at one time or another. Therefore, we have to wear each of them. Sometimes at the same time. Every day.

The play clothes of the mommy that have a smell somewhere between Play Dough and spit-up. The outfit that most certainly has finger paint stains left behind from the loving hands of one of our children.

The business suit we don complete with strangling pantyhose and high heeled shoes that are meant to merely torture us. The uniform we wear when we must dress for success to be seen as the competent and confident business women we must become from nine to five.

The outfit of the friend who hangs out with you and laughs with you over a cup of coffee or just shares the latest news in her life. Those comfortable sweats we throw on that say “I am here for you, so be free to be yourself.� . This outfit says it is okay to cry on my shoulder or laugh until we wet our pants.

And we shouldn’t forget the professional yet reassuring outfit of the local psychologist that we play to our family, friends and that woman in the grocery store who actually thought about buying the gossip magazine that claims Aliens have Elvis living among them.

Then there is the lingerie for the sex kitten we once remember being for our spouses so long ago. Sometimes-- to be perfectly honest with you-- that “outfit� doesn’t come out of the back of the dresser drawer for days or even weeks at a time. That is just as well, though. Naked serves the same purpose and is more comfortable.

Oh, and of course we must not forget the casual Capri’s and button down shirt that says “Put together Mom who volunteers at the school and could not possible make a mistake in the raising of her children.� (Complete with sensible, yet fashionable shoes.)

Then –much to my exhaustion-- there is the maid uniform. It’s nothing sexy or worth fantasizing about. It smells like bleach and pine. It has many pockets usually stuffed with cleaning supplies or a stray Lego or Matchbox car. It is the ugliest outfit of them all, but the one we put on every day more times than I want to count.