Ever realized that "stressed" is
"desserts" spelled backwards?!? 
If you ask me, it's not just by chance. 
It's not a conspiracy, either.  It
really is one of life's most important choices that we face: do you go with
'stressed,' or do you go with the desserts? 
For me, it's a no brainer - I'll take the desserts any day.  I am, after all, the only person I know whose
end of life wishes include a funeral party with lots of desserts.  And I've made sure that my loved ones are
well aware of my wishes.

When I became a mother 13 short years ago, I immediately
felt a bond with every mother who ever marveled at tiny baby socks or wiped a
snotty nose.  I now understood what it
meant to be part of the club.  It wasn't
long before I discovered the other requirement of membership in the Mommy club.  Like human nature, I quickly learned that "mother
nature" was marked by well-meaning and some not-so-well-meaning
competition.  Who's child was in the n'th
percentile for height and weight, who smiled first, potty-trained, who said
"Melmo" when the Sesame Street theme song came on the TV.  (You think I'm joking about that last one;
I'm not.)  It was evident everywhere,
from Mommy and Me gym class to the waiting room at the pediatrician's office, to
the playground and preschool.   Back in
the day, I gave my fellow Moms the benefit of the doubt.  We were learning from each other, using our
child's growth and 'achievements'  (I use
that term lightly) as a measuring stick to assure ourselves that were good
parents, doing the right thing, on the right course, and our child was
developing  progressively.

Working mothers, on the other hand, had yet another level of
competition going on.  (And still do,
regardless of their children's ages -  admit it.) 
It was - and is -  a warped sort
of competition about who is the busiest, whose schedule is most full, who is
most exhausted at the end of the day.  It
had become a badge of honor to be stressed out and there was outright
competition for who was more stressed.  And
a sense of pride.  Instead of a method
for dealing with working mother stress, yoga and pilates classes became another
task on the calendar, another box in the to do list, another 'accomplishment.'  Hearing it now, it's totally absurd.  But, truth be told, it's very easy to get
caught up in the working woman-cookie baking-room parent- holiday committee
merry go round.  The need to commiserate,
or share, with other working mothers is understandable.  But elevated to the level of competition,
where women are actually undermining each other's accomplishments in order to
prove who is busier and, therefore, more stressed, is ludicrous.    

So what does all this have to do with dessert?  You can choose to be "stressed" and
wear it as a badge of honor, or you can choose "desserts," to savor
life, and critically examine what's causing the stress (ambition, competition,
anything that starts with 'should'). 

I can say this because, after 13 years of motherhood and at
least the past 10 years spent focused on my career, I've become less focused on
getting ahead and more focused on getting a life.  My new job is one-eighth the responsibility
of my old job, but, most importantly, I continue to be challenged and
inspired.  It's a joy to go to work every
day because every day is new and exciting. 
I never know if there's going to be an impromptu jazz concert outside my
office at noon or dancers in funky tights practicing in the main foyer.  Today when I left work there were students emptying
trash bins on the floor, with all due diligence, sorting recyclables, then re-depositing
the trash.  On my way to the parking lot,
it hit me: I'm not stressed. And it's OK. 
 I'm challenged, but not stressed,
and I've learned that there's a difference between the two.  And it makes my work no less worthy or
important  And what did I do?  I came home and ate dessert - first.  After years of contemplating and writing about
work-life balance...by George, I think I've got it.