Mom today

I've been thinking a lot about moms and being a grown up and having friends and how all this changes us and what happens next, after we've mastered this whole mom thing and our kids grow up and move out...and, yes, that was supposed to be a run on sentence.  You're welcome.
No, really, the last few years have been so intense.  We went from the craziness of trying to get pregnant (two years of SUCH FUN doctor's visits!) to the relentlessness of being new parents.  And just when Big E was getting a little more mobile and a bit less needy, we decided to try again.  The drugs worked and we were blessed with Big H.  My boys are a little less than 21 months apart.  Which means that, today, as I write this, Big H is about to turn 3 and in a few short months Big E will turn 5.
Side note:  My mind can almost not comprehend the fact that I will have a FIVE YEAR OLD.
Anyway, I've been thinking a lot about how I'm not getting any younger (I'll be 35 this summer) and if we're really done having kids.  I used to jokingly say that I wanted five children, to spread out my crazy and make their lives easier.  And after having two children, I can tell you, I'd like to have more.  I'm just not sure I can handle the pregnancy part or the first year/breastfeeding/sleep deprivation part.  Which is kind of a problem. And I know that adoption is an option, but I have watched a few friends go through that process and if you thought infertility was gut-wrenching and took strength to live through, you can safely assume that adoption is it's own crazy ride.
So, what happens to us once we've figured out this mom thing and then our kids grow up???  I love being a mom.  I love staying home with my kids and watching them grow into little people.  I love that I get to bear witness to their daily realizations about the world around them.  But I know that in a few short years, the view will look completely different.  Don't get me wrong, I know they'll always be my boys and that, god-willing, we'll still talk, and play, and spend quality time together.  But it will be different.  These moments right now really are priceless.  And even on the afternoons where Big H has given himself a bloody nose with a garden stake, and Big E is screaming at us because we're not playing with the dump truck the way it is SUPPOSED to be played with, and Ginger the dog has thrown up on a pile of clean laundry, and Olive the dog is whining from the bedroom because she's old and can't figure out how to walk down the hall and find all of us - even on those afternoons - if I can hear my thoughts through the chaos, I try to pay attention to the quietest thought.  The one that says, "this too shall pass and damn, will you miss it."