Dirt Between Our Toes & Nobody Knows

I'm sure with inconsistent posts and barely getting by to read any of yours
I barely have a readership.
It is what it is.
You get what you put into things.

And lately my focus has been on reconnecting with kids I barely saw over the fall and winter.
Painting the boudoir of a young couple who has been married for 5 years, had 2 kids, and one messy, stark white, room (that would be Rav & I).

We've been outside.
Hiking, playing, getting dirty.
Sometimes dinner has only consisted of an ice cream cone.
It's been a few, sweet weeks of simple luxuries.
Like ice cream for dinner.
Vegetables?
Oh, we had those last week.
Fruit?
The week before last.
I kid about that.
My kids are eating fine.

A day or two goes by and I realize that we're dirty.
Dirty from play and grass and sweat.
But it's good.
Cleansing even.

I've hitched up the bike trailer to my bike
and the kids and I have headed out with a packed lunch
to our local park.

We've hit fairs, ridden rides, and spent more time together in the past few weeks than
we have in what seems to be the last few years.

We spent the night at the beach with Three Dog Night Dad and Eileen.
We've put our toes in The Atlantic and been covered in sand.

Last night the kids and Rav arrived home after spending 4 days in Massachusetts
sans Mommy.

All the while, we see Connor falling back into old, familiar, anxiety-ridden territory.
And we're tired.
Our family is busting out of this house and desperately wants to spread its wings.
We don't know where or how we'll get there.
Change isn't even on the horizon.
We just feel the itch.