Steve, I don’t fully agree that happiness is a choice.  Some people are simply born depressed and can’t help it; it’s their body chemistry.

Brette, I think the point you make is very important: That we all need to make very individual choices.

Susan, I always knew I could never be a housewife, either.  I felt fortunate that has always been clear to me.

Narguesse, that’s one of the most depressing stories I’ve ever heard.  Fifty years in a bad marriage!  I want to shoot myself just thinking about it.

Nancy, my idea of hell is returning to the 1950s.

Rachel, I’d love to read what you write about this.

Kristen, it sounds as if you basically had a decent relationship with your mother.  I just didn’t with mine.

Judy, no, we never have the perfect parent.  Look forward to your mother essay.

Sheryl, I find it haunting how often we design our lives as mothers to make up for our own mothers.  And proceed on to make different mistakes.

Christine, I understand.  Everything changes when you become a mother yourself and realize how flawed you are and how large you’ll loom in your kids’ lives.

Thanks, Meredith and Roxanne and Vera.

Donna, sounds as if we had very similar mothers.

Stephanie, the sad truth is that you can’t always reconcile with someone.  It’s so painful to contemplate that you, like me, see what you don’t want to be in your own mother.  I don’t think you can ever get past that — or at least, I couldn’t.

Jennifer, thank you so much.