We have new neighbors across the street. They moved in a few weeks ago, and we’ve exchanged a few words here and there, but mostly they’ve been busy with moving in and I’ve been busy moving my children from the house to the car and back again.

As far as I can tell from brief conversation, they’re about the same age as Hubby and I–maybe a couple of years older. They’ve got two or three kids, the oldest appears to be about six or seven.

The other day my Mother in Law was leaving the house when she turned around and called out to her son, “come see–it’s your future.” Curious, my husband and slipped out the front door to see what in the world she was talking about.

Across the street, our new neighbors were playing in the front yard. Dad was tossing a football to his two sons. The oldest did fairly good job, and the younger boy ran back and forth getting very little action.

We stood there and watched for a bit. A scene we know nothing about–the running legs of the little boy, the effortlessness with which he caught the ball–it’s all completely foreign to us. And while my Mother in Law referenced the future, thinking of the twins, in a way we were also looking at what might have been. Had life taken a different direction, it might have been us tossing the ball with our son. Instead, he played on the floor inside, his legs still more of burden than an asset.

It could have been a bittersweet moment, and maybe it should have been. But as I stood there on the front porch, I was fine. I was aware of the difference between their lives and ours, but it didn’t phase me. Maybe it’s because we have new possibilities at our house now. Maybe it’s because I’ve reached some level of acceptance. I’m not really sure.

I shrugged my shoulders and muttered, “eh.” My husband said to his mother, “I’m not sure we’ll ever be those people.”

And we went inside.

Louis is still my big baby and without a doubt the most demanding. If someone is screaming to be fed in the middle of the night, it’s Louis. He’s also my gregarious baby–batting his eye lashes at you and smiling three times more than his brother.

We still have no idea what color his eyes are. At first, it seemed they were definitely brown, when you look at them, though, there seems to be some other stuff going on in there as well. They won’t be blue, but we haven’t ruled out green, or gray either. No matter what, he seems to have flecks of color in side of them like my younger brother.

Our big issue with Louis is that he seems to have a head/neck issue of some sort. He always looks in one direction. He can see in both directions (so it seems), but when he’s resting, he always ends up with his head the same way. So much so, that he’s developed a flat spot on the back of his head. We’ll ask the pediatrician about it, but in the mean time we’re rolling up blankets and tucking them under his head to keep it straight and putting out most interesting stuff on the other side. By interesting, I of course mean a glowing, light-up sea horse–those are all the rage in baby land these days.

August. August is my sweetie. Even when he’s “crying,” it’s more of a fuss. He’s very expressive and will wrinkle his tiny brow or stick out his lower lip to let you know how he’s feeling. He is much stingier with the smiles than Louis, but on the rare occasion he lets you see one, you’ll see it looks just like his Daddy’s.

In general, August looks a lot like Charlie and has his coloring as well. His hair is a reddish blonde, much like Charlie’s was. His eyes are grayer than Charlie’s were at this age, but still very light. Charlie seems to connect a lot more with August, and I wonder if it’s because he likes the way he looks, but it more likely because he scream about 75% less than Louis.

August’s only apparent scar of of prematurity is a hemangioma on his right arm. If you’re unfamiliar with the term, Google will tell you that it’s like a strawberry birthmark. That doesn’t really do it justice. On August, it’s a raised patch of redness that’s about an inch across. Pretty much scared the Bazeebus out of me when I got a look at if after weeks of him being wrapped up in blankets at NICU. The pediatrician assures me that it will be just fine, and should disappear on its own when he turn about two. In the meantime we just keep an eye on it and make sure it doesn’t try to take over or anything.

And Charlie. There have been many  question about the big brother and let me say that he is doing fantastic. He has handled the twins with a lot of grace. He smiles at them from time to time, looks them over with curiosity, and has even reached out his hand to give them a little pat–big stuff for my little guy.

On his own, he continues to thrive. I continue to work on the process we started before the babies were born–teaching him to read new words, and then using those words to demonstrate knowledge. The layers of learning can be a little arduous sometimes–I know he can identify blue and yellow!–but I know that this is laying the foundation for bigger things, so I keep at it. We’re also slowly starting back with ABR.  Before I got pregnant, we averaged90 minutes a day. It’s going to be a bit before we can get back to that, but I know we can.

He’s also just plain growing up. More and more, he responds appropriately to the things you say: he turns off the TV if you ask him, holds out his hand when it’s time to go somewhere, smiles when he gets home from school. Some days it feels like a million tiny miracles.

Three kids who can’t walk is incredibly hard physically–most nights I fall into bed with aching bones and a screaming back. It takes three trips to get everyone in the car and the thermometer on my back porch is regularly reading 100 degrees. I sweat and lift, carry and cart. But my heart? It is good.