I guess you could call it procrastination. I like to think of it as not having enough hours in the day to get it all done. However you label it, I awoke Saturday morning with a sense of anxiety and a realization that do or die, it had to be done.

Housework. The dreaded compound word that can make me inwardly groan and wish I was independently wealthy and could afford a full time maid. No such luck for me though. At 9 a.m. I was faced with the cold, hard reality that my mom would be arriving at my house at noon and the place as not in any shape or form ready for company.

Of course, moms aren't just any company. That say things like "oh, you don't have to clean on my part," but we all know that's not really true. Moms notice when you have soap scum ring in the bathtub or if your end tables are dusty. You can't fool them by stuffing a few things in the closet or under the beds. Moms know.

I tried not to panic too badly at the face I had overslept. And, my dear and wonderful husband was ready to pitch in however he could. We were sipping coffee at 9:30 when my best friend Kim called. Her mother was coming up from Lake Village too with my mom. She let me know that they had reached Brinkley in their four hour drive. Some quick math launched me into full scale panic mode when I realized that meant they would be at my house in about an hour and half -- a whole hour early!

Being the good friend that she is -- and understanding the need for obsessive cleanliness when the moms comes to visit -- Kim hopped in her car and drove over to help me sort out the insanity at my house. She scrubbed my tub and my husband did something I'm pretty sure he's never done in the five years since we've been married. He actually dusted the living room, and I didn't even ask him to! That, women, is something to put tears in your eyes.

We had just finished the major cleaning when we heard mom's car pull into the driveway. Quickly, Kim and I dashed to hide the cleaning supplies -- the evidence -- before they walked through the front door. The key, as I had to explain to my husband, is that you have to look like you weren't doing any cleaning when they get there. It's supposed to be like your house is always that clean.

Of course, Josh had to point out that the floors were still wet from being mopped and the moms would surely notice that. Well, they did, but still -- it was pretty impressive that we pulled if off.

My mountain of dirty laundry hidden in my bedroom still didn't escape mom though. But, don't we all have dirty laundry hidden somewhere in our house when guests arrive?

Moms may always find our dirty laundry, but like I said… they're not just any guest. They love us anyway.