Every morning, my Big Guy puts on his school uniform. My Little Guy puts on his uniform of choice - warm-up pants, a T-shirt and a hockey jersey. Then it is my turn. Running shirt, running shorts and running shoes. Hair in a ponytail. I check for toothpaste on my lips and I am off.

The problem is this mommy uniform spills over to the rest of the day. Long after the stay-at-home mommy hour has past from the gym and the sweat has dried on my clothes, I find myself in the grocery store picking up a few things I forgot to buy during my last visit. This after having gone to the library to renew a few books.

By the time I finally get a glimpse of my reflection in the car window, it is nearly too late. It is almost lunch time. School pick up is in two hours. I have three things left on my to do list, but gosh, do I need to clean up.

My ponytail is loose and the stray hairs are dancing a crazy dance around my skull. My morning flush from exercise has faded and now my skin is just white, exposing its natural flaws…freckles, wrinkles and possibly a few unsightly marks. My T-shirt doesn’t smell so fresh and my pants have reminded me that they are for the gym only. They should not be worn for an extended period of time in public.

What seemed like a good fashion choice at 6:30 a.m. is no longer acceptable. It’s like being seen in the dress you wore to a party the night before the morning after (not that it’s ever happened to me, but you know who you are!). Everyone knows that is just not good. I am certain the TV show “What Not To Wear” would love me.

I head to a local sandwich shop to get something to go where I add insult to injury. It’s the lunch hour and women are everywhere. These aren’t the ordinary women. These may be working women. Or the “stay-at-home- crowd-who-cares” women.

They smell like fresh shampoo and perfume. Their hair is not in a ponytail. It is styled and cute. The outfits are fabulous. Nice jeans, cute tops, fashionable jackets. And let’s not forget the shoes. High heels. High boots. Trendy flats with patterns. I cower as I order, too afraid I may make eye contact and disappoint my gender with my obvious neglect and lack of caring.

At that moment in time something monumental happens. I vow to become one of them. I want to be one of them. I want to be that mom. Fashionable and confident. Classic and put together. I will shower at the gym before I venture into the outside world. I would trade into my current mommy uniform for a new one.

I do have great jeans somewhere in my closet and a few pairs of designer shoes. I should be wearing them! I can blow out my hair. Even a little mascara and blush would be a plus. Could you imagine if I put lip gloss on too? My mind is spinning. Perhaps being called natural is not really a compliment? I am cleaning up. I will be able to strut down the street and join the cool mom club. My new uniform will shout “Yes, I care and I’ve still got it!”.

I go home, grab a quick shower, and make an effort to put myself together. It is not quite what I had hoped for, but it is better than my gym uniform. “This could be my new mommy uniform,” I think optimistically. I can do this everyday! On the weekends, I can wear it to Big Guy’s 7:00 a.m. hockey games and to Little Guy’s 8:30 a.m. soccer games. I will wear it when I pick up clothes from the dry cleaners and go to school to volunteer. I will never have to cower again.

I get home and resist the temptation to change into my comfy sweats and T-shirt. How can I pick up all the twigs on the grass in heels and fitted jeans? No worries, of course I can.

I drag the trash cans to the curb, all the time worrying I may be getting some indescribable germ and dirt on my expensive blouse. Even though I bought it two months ago, it’s only the second time I have worn it. (I was saving it for a special occasion).

My kids ask me to save a tennis ball that is rolling toward the creek. Now my Jimmy Choos heels have dirt caked on the back. It’s OK. Why should they only be worn out to dinner on date night?

My hair is falling into my eyes and is starting to smell like the outdoors instead of shampoo. I am starting to think this whole fashionista uniform is just not who I am. Dreaming about my running clothes, I run for the house.

Some dreams are short lived.

Illyse appears every Thursday on TriangleMom2Mom.