Author: Holly Crawshaw

Tiny Crazy Mouths

It’s February. The holidays are over. All [most] of the Christmas decorations are packed away. The family goals for the New Year are written on the back of a Chik-Fil-A napkin and taped to the fridge…and for about 15 minutes, I get to sit on the sofa and overdose on Netflix and caramel popcorn. I’m debating whether or not I should watch that morally questionable reality show everyone loves when it hits me – it’s almost Valentine’s Day. Then there’s Easter. Spring Break. Family vacation. Church camp. A new school year. Thanksgiving. And. Yup. Christmas. It’s almost Christmas again....

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A Year of New Days

We spent a lot of time with my grandparents growing up. We rode four-wheelers through the woods, cooked biscuits from scratch, and watched the same movies over and over again. One of those movies featured a favorite character of mine, Anne (with an ‘e’) Shirley.  There’s a quote by Anne that has always stuck with me: “Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?” I’m going to level with you – 2015 was not my best showing. I fell short…a lot. I lacked consistent quiet times, I was lazy in...

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Christmas Gifts That Won’t Clutter

We’ve all been there. It’s mid-March. The holidays have come and gone. The weather is slowly warming back up. Life has returned to normal. After the kids are in bed, you walk back through your quiet house, turning off lights, making lunches for the next day. As you’re about to head to bed (AKA catching up on Netflix shows), you peek into the kids rooms or the playroom. And you almost pass out. Because what you see looks like the aftermath of a nuclear explosion. All those toys, puzzles, and pop-up tents (that never fit back into their tiny...

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Just Wear The Stupid Gym Shorts

Am I the only Mama who feels like 5:00pm – 7:00pm are the worst hours of the day? I mean, what good occurs between 5:00pm – 7:00pm? Nobody likes what we had for dinner. You can smell my cat’s litter box from the driveway. The dishes are teetering over the edge of the sink. I can’t understand my 1st grader’s homework. I’m tired. My girls are tired. Let’s be honest – even the cat’s in a bad mood. And yet… it’s still… not… bedtime. I call these hours the Evening Vortex. It’s never-ending. If you call or text me...

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I Feel Like a Failure

I just got off the phone with my best friend since 7th grade. Her name is Megan*, and she is one of my favorite people on Earth. First, she makes a mean grilled cheese, and second, she is one of the most loyal people I know. Now, between Megan and I, there are five kids. We’re lucky to get a few texts out to each other a day. They usually look like this: Me: Ezzy peed on the white rug. I need a new one. Megan: I could use a few throw pillows. Me: Home Goods? Megan: Tuesday? Me:...

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