My" Internal" History of Motherhood

My "internal" history, meaning what I am thinking and possibly why am I this kind of mother? I think I will reflect  back on to one of my first happy childhood memories; for if I was "happy" as a child maybe that intensified my desire to be a mother? In my current class on motherhood, we evaluated why we wanted/or did not want to be mothers. As I personally asked this question and answered,"yes", I feel the best way to show this desire is through these foundation of memories of my family. 
  Remembering myself in Dekalb, Illinois as a child of about five and my adventures in our vast, flat, field of a backyard. One moment, that brought out the senses, was as I lay in the tall grassy field. Being a middle child of four, born in a six year span of time, us kids would run “free in the fields” as the parents would talk of their new jobs at NIU.  I felt very secure as a hidden observer as I was listening of talking off in the distance. As I lay supine in the swaying tall grass, I had created a pressed-down area of a hidden playpen. I felt an extreme feeling of connection to nature with the twightlight sky above and insects abuzz around the edges of my little den. I was also feeling “protected”, “secure”, and yet a  hidden observer . “Secure” in listening to my parents talking on the back patio of ”regular life” and hearing off in the further distance the band practice from the University Stadium . The University of Northern Illinois held a regional band competition every summer, and since our house on Annie Glidden road was backed up to the stadium, this sound was just a part of my childhood. In retrospect, the reinforcement of the sounds of the University brought confidence in my father to mind. For, my father had just brought his family of six, to the wide-open Midwest, away from the “overbearing” Italian in-laws.

Another memory was of times with my mother looking in her bureau drawers. . Penelope Donoghue Deloca, who brought me into this world in the 70’s, was always know to me as a natural,”no fuss” woman. Looking in my mother’s drawers brought out her glamorous past of being Mrs. New York in 1966.  I remember touching the soft long white gloves and shimmering “diamond” jewels that I also could see in old photo’s. Although at the time it was a pure feminine interest that attracted me to these objects, the conversations and lessons about “true beauty” have stayed with me to this day. 
 I only hope from all the craziness and roller coaster like emotions in my current family life my children may have a couple "happy" memories to hold someday.