Five Things I Do That'd Horrify My Mom if She Knew but She Won't Because She Doesn't Read This Blog

When it comes to Momdom, I've got my mom up on a pedestal.

She ran an immaculate and efficient house, raised three kids into responsible, socially well-adjusted adults and is one of the best cooks I know. Looking back at my childhood, I remember her as confident, caring and capable.

Oh, and totally Type A.

Take, for example, her Deep-Clean Saturdays where she'd remove every single piece of furniture from a room and scrub it from top to bottom. Then, dust and replace everything piece by piece. (Type A.)

Also, nearly every dish was washed by hand -- even after we got our first dishwasher. To this day she has as many items that she won't allow in the dishwasher as the ones she will let in. (Again, Type A.)

I think the lady just likes to scrub things.

When I started out keeping my own house, I also applied a Type A approach. Following in my mother's footsteps, I'd diligently scrub and wash things weekly, but once I had the twins, I had to lower my standards considerably.

And they've stayed low ever since.

Don't get me wrong. The kids have clean clothes to wear and my house will never be featured on one of those hoarder shows, but it's a far cry from the house I grew up in or aspire to have again someday.

So, without further ado, here are Five Things I Do That'd Horrify My Mom if She Knew but She Won't Because She (Luckily) Doesn't Read This Blog:

1. My laundry resides in laundry baskets - not in closets or drawers. There's so much laundry to do around here, I barely have it in me to get it all washed, folded and hung up. That's why I have a laundry basket system. I have boat loads of baskets and some are designated for clean and others for dirty clothes. I wash, I fold (mostly), but I rarely put things away. Unless, I need another basket.
2. I scrub my bathtub only about 4 times a year. Typically, I squirt some bleach-water around in there to keep things from getting too gross, but the on hands-and-knees scrubbing job gets done quarterly at best.
3. Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING goes in the dishwasher. And if the dishwasher is full, the remaining dirty dishes get rinsed and stacked and wait until the next cycle. Wash things by hand? Pa-lease!
4. I don't make my bed every day. This doesn't sound that bad, but coming from Mom's hospital-corners house, it ain't good.
5. I do not keep copies of bills, receipts or pay stubs neatly organized in a filing cabinet for seven years. When paying bills, I log the expense and then shred the paper. I cannot stand a desk cluttered with old invoices and little slips of paper. Every thing's electronic now from the bank, to the utility, to the gas station. Plus, I do not have the time for all the filing. I rationalize this with the notion that I don't need a piece of paper to prove my employment, wage or who owes what. (And I will never watch the movie The Net. Ever.)

Now, there's a lot that I have adopted and applied from the house I grew up in, but these aren't typically things that involve cleaning.

• We eat dinner together as a family EVERY NIGHT -- and more often than not, it's home-cooked.
• I serve a meat, starch and veggie with every meal and the kids must clean their plates.
• It makes me nuts to go to bed when the house is a cluttered mess -- especially the kitchen.

So, while my house may not sparkle, it's at least relatively tidy. (I find it keeps protective services away and helps me be able to find things from day to day.)

I guess it's all about standards. We eat on clean dishes, but how those dishes got clean is different than how Mom used to do it.

I'll settle for Type B or C. If there is such a thing.