I was watching A Baby Story recently, a charming show chronicling the last few weeks of a pregnant woman and her quest for an ideal birth. Once the program begins, I cannot look away. It’s like a train wreck. I usually end up critiquing the actions of the parents-to-be prior to the birth, making fun of their quirky behavior and irrational expectations regarding how they want the birth to go. And then I cry my way through the birth, the first time baby is put into the parents’ arms. Bring on the Kleenex, I am a sobbing mass of quivering empathetic mommy, especially if the birth involved first-time mothers and fathers.

I remember going through those emotions, that uncertainty. But, I swear, some of these first-time parents are just utterly disconnected from anything resembling rationality! Really. They make me worry about the gene pool. It keeps me up at night.

I watched an episode where the expectant mother and her spouse went shopping at the health food store. And I watched 5 minutes’ footage of this couple choosing dozens of jars of organic baby food for their baby. Why did this set me off? Why did I turn off the TV before even the wondrous event of childbirth? Because I caught a glimpse into the dysfunctionality of our parenting culture.

So, I decided to write a letter to these dear, well meaning people:

OK, now that I got that off my chest, here is some sage advice on how YOU TOO can buy yourself a little pocket of time to do such things as watch the ending of A Baby Story, or perhaps to get SOMETHING done while simultaneously parenting little kids. Here’s how to get about 10 minutes to yourself if you are the parent on duty and you have children older than 2 yet younger than 5. The main ingredient is a jar of organic creamy peanut butter (Do I need to state the obvious and say that your child should be at least 2 and not exhibit signs of peanut allergy? *sigh*), two plastic kid-friendly knives, and a pile of crackers. Place children at dining table. Give each a (plastic, kid-friendly) knife and plate and 10 crackers. Open the peanut butter jar. Tell them to make peanut butter cracker sandwiches. Hide the dog (because, really, washing peanut butter off the yellow lab is not fun). Now, RUN!

When returning after 10 minutes, bring baby wipes and a sense of humor.

My mother kept a garden in our backyard in New England when I was a girl. She grew parsnips, carrots, tomatoes, and anything else that would sprout in the assortment of funky containers that crowded the shelves in her greenhouse. She’d then transplant the seedlings to the backyard. She would pick the tomatoes early, when they were still green and firm, and put them on the windowsill in the kitchen to ripen. I remember these tomatoes vividly, because they were ugly, and because they tasted like a sweet summer day.

I was in the grocery store, picking up produce for a birthday party we were having for my one-year-old. Have you perused the produce in your local food store lately? I’ve never seen more perfect tomatoes. Each one is a work of art. No weird growths that look like little tumors, no discoloration, no bulbous ugliness. And no taste whatsoever.

I actually read an article lately about companies rebelling against the FTC (yes, the Florida Tomato Commission–I can’t make this shit up!) for their strict standards. I snatched this from the “Santa’s Sweets” site, where the company is fighting to keep its line of ugly tomatoes (Uglyripe) on the market: “…the FTC has denied the exemption… saying the Uglyripe� does not the have the appropriate shape to meet the grade standards. The Uglyripes� were prohibited from being shipped from Florida last winter and spring. We suffered a $2.8 million loss.”

The FTC’s standards only go so far as to legislate appearance, of course. “Growers complain that… UglyRipes could wreck the reputation of Florida tomatoes. To allow misshapen and blemished tomatoes could open the way for a flood of ugly tomatoes to hit the market” (USA Today, 12/9/04). It’s really too bad we don’t have free trade in this nation. Imagine if the market DID open up and all those small farmers could sell their delicious produce to the people who want them. Hell, Florida would probably have to file for bankruptcy….

It doesn’t matter that these ugly tomatoes taste delicious. Style wins out over substance yet again.

I miss ugly tomatoes. I miss taste. I miss substance.