Not That I Want To Raise My Children In Bubbles...

... but I kind-of do. I mean, not the kind of bubble where they gain no worldly experience or anything. No, I mean those germ-free bubbles that keep someone isolated from all human contact.

Okay so maybe that's a little extreme, so maybe I just want to put them in Bubbles for trips to the grocery store. Or make them invisible... Better yet, perhaps I should just hire a babysitter for grocery outings. If I were a betting woman (and I'm not by virtue of having no money and any money I do get my hands on goes directly to my Starbucks fund and wouldn't be gambled away) I'd bet the farm that leaving the girls at home would get me in and out of the grocery store in HALF the time. HALF. That's huge. And I further guarantee that 80% of the illnesses my family contracts would be avoided entirely. See where I'm going with the Bubble thing?

See, I get it, Old Korean Lady. I do. Those girls dissolve my heart too. I can't resist them either. I nibble toes and rub noses and tickle cheeks and offer my finger at every opportunity I get. But it's okay for me to stop in the middle of an aisle to catch Jordan's eye, grin back at her and plant a smooch on her nose. SHE IS MY DAUGHTER. So, you see, I do understand that they're irresistible. I'd love to devour the sweeties in Jack's class and squish them all in giant hugs. But I don't because they're not my kids. Therefore, as far as understanding goes, I've got plenty of that. Patience, however, is a virtue that is in fairly short supply these days. I use it all up on my children, then my husband, and then, if they're lucky, customer service representatives (and usually they're not... lucky, that is). And I realize that you don't understand me when I plead with you to please leave us to our shopping so I can get home to feed them. I know you don't understand, "I'm in a hurry," because I don't understand the (very sweet, I'm sure) things you're saying to the girls while you grab their toes and touch their noses and giggle at their smiles. Please, Old Korean Lady, listen to your husband who is saying (very frustrated, I'm sure) things to you and pulling your blouse in the other direction. I'll betcha he's saying to you in your language what I'm saying in mine: "Please let them be!"

And you, Very Kind Not-Yet-Grandmother, I am very sorry your son is 27 and a total jerk and won't settle down and your daughter is a lesbian who doesn't want children... I am. But I can't fill that void in your life while we're standing in the baking aisle. I don't really want to talk to you about breastfeeding or whether I sleep through the night while I debate Betty Crocker versus Duncan Hines. I wish you the best... maybe get a few more cats? But I really have to get out of this store in under 2 hours...

The worst offenders are Moms-of-Older Kids who say rude things (but don't realize they are rude things) such as, "Look, 'Tween-Who-Should-Be-In-School-But-Is-Probably-Sick-So-Is-Staying-Out-Instead, why don't you go see those babies - aren't they cute! Look how sweet they are, go on, look," while urging said 'Tween to get as close as possible to inspect (and breathe on) the babies.

And yes, shockingly, two babies of comparable size in infant carriers, clutching corresponding blankets in the same shopping cart pushed by one person are (ready for this?) TWINS. Real, honest-to-goodness living and breathing twins.

Holy Moses.

Yes, I was pregnant with them. Yes, I gave birth to them. No, I'm really sure they're not identical. Nope, don't want to talk about lactation. Nope, not your business whether or not I can afford them. Yes, my hands are full, but they won't be if you move away from my cart so I can put my armload of garbanzo beans into it instead of standing here discussing birth-order with you.

And really, you don't need to get 6 inches from their faces to determine that their eyes are blue. And then tell me about it. I'm aware; I've seen them.

So what's a mom supposed to do? I see several options:

1) I could NOT go to the store and send Hubby... no, no not really an option.
2) I could ignore these people... but it doesn't matter if I say nothing to them, they'll still touch noses and tell their shopping partner about the "adorable little babies" they've just smeared with germs.
3) I could start wearing a sandwich board around with decrees posted about My Grocery Store Twin-Viewing Etiquette, but that would make crouching to get the better deals off the lower shelves pretty tough...
....which leaves me with option #4... The Bubble.

Anyone know where I could find them?