Panic is setting in - the groceries are starting to dwindle. It looks like John and I will have to make another trip to..da da dummm...the Supermarket.

Groceries have always been a dreaded chore for me. With a baby, it's a nightmare. John hates it just as much as me, but he's the only one allowed to scream. We've only had one positive grocery experience. I fed him so much just before leaving the house that he couldn't wake up if he tried. I spent the whole time wiping spit-up from his groggy face, between the oohs and aahhs of passers-by. Unfortunately, he hasn't fallen for that trick since.

Our first trip was the worst. He was just a week old, and I thought he'd find riding around in the grocery cart fun. Yeah. Right. He popped awake the second we got through the door, and didn't stop crying until we were back in the parking lot. At first he looked stunned. Then he whipped his head back and forth, with this panicked look, as colourful packages passed by, kids pointed, a young couple probed me with questions, and old ladies stuck their heads in my cart for a better look. The lights, the noise, the poeople, it was all a little too much, and he went into a fit. He was screaming so hard, he couldn't breathe. He pulled at his cheeks in anguish. It was torturous to watch. Needless to say, the kids stopped pointing, the old ladies backed off, and I'm sure that young cople started having some second thoughts.

I had no idea what to do, so I just ignored the poor little guy, and shopped as fast as possible. He slept the whole way home, but it was small comfort. In my haste, I had forgotten half the things I needed, so I had to go back.Too embarrassd to return to the same store just days later, I decided to finish the shopping somewhere new. I took John for a little drive before we arrived, so he would doze off.

All was well until the pet food isle, when he woke up screaming. However, rather than zoom for the check-out with screaming baby in tow, I picked him up to comfort him. It worked like a charm. Instead of pitying glances, I got approving looks from passers-by. I thought I had conquered the supermarket fussies. That is, until we got to the freezer department, where he kicked up again. Except this time when I picked him up, I noticed a stream of watery, mustardy poo running down his leg, towards my shirt. I quickly put him back down, so the nearby stock-boy wouldn't notice, and mopped as much of the mess as I could with a spare blanket.

What to do? Stranded in public with a screaming baby and a poopy diaper, I headed for the washroom. But once I got there, I had a dilema. I couldn't get his seat out of the cart. It was wedged in with food. What was I to do? Do I take the whole cart into the bathroom, and be accused of stealing, or do I leave my cart, with very expensive and essential car seat in public view? In retrospect, I should have done the latter - who's going to steal a car seat from the grocry store, especially when they'd have to unload the cart to get to it? In reality, I decided to just high-tail it through the rest of my list, and get the heck out of there ASAP, poopy diaper and all.

By the time I got to the check-out, John was in a frenzy. I felt like the worst mom in the world for leaving him in there, so I took a clean blanket, carefully wrapped it around his waist to cover the oozing poo, and picked him up. It was only supposed to be for a minute, to calm him down. But as I was about to put him down, my hand started to feel warm. And wet. And sticky. A quick peek, and sure enough, his poop had leaked right through the blanket and onto my hand. By this time, he was attracting a crowd of people all offering their own theory of why he was fussy. He's tired, said one. He's cold, said another. He's just not a shopper, offered a third. Putting him down would have exposed the dirty truth, so I just smiled, nodded and kept my hand firmly wedged over the oozing poo, while I tried to unload my groceries with my one free hand. The other moms took such pity on me, they unloaded my groceries onto the belt for me. It was so embarrassing. John screamed all the way to the exit, and all the way through the parking lot, with my hand in his poo.

The second his seat clicked into the car? Sound asleep. Cheeky kid.

I was so embarrassed, I had to go to another store the next time. By the time I left there, I had an entourage of clerks and store managers, telling me in baby-talk why my baby was so upset. The one man thought he was teething. At a month old. I think it was them following us around. The second we were back in the car? Fast asleep.

I'm looking for a new store now. I'm starting to run out of options. I'm thinking Grocery Gateway is the way to go.