Gee thanks, kid

Eva's grandmother takes an ancient-looking jar of relish out of her fridge, as we prep our hot-dogs on a lovely late summer day.

She opens it, smells it, examines it carefully, before replacing the lid and setting it aside.

"I think that one's too old. I think it's gone bad, Eva" she says.

Eva sighs, turns, and shoves the jar across the table towards me.

"Here, Mama," she says.

"YOU TRY IT"

Day one, grade one

1. Eva seemed happy as could be, coming home after her first day of grade one. I had a huge a stab of guilt this morning while at work, knowing that Etienne was hauling three (3!) bags of school supplies, a lunch bag, a dazed Eva, and a squirming Adele - who refuses to hold your hand and tries to fling herself on the sidewalk when you lift her - into a school jammed with 200 other screaming and flailing kids all trying to find their classrooms.

But I talked with him afterward and he was cool as a cucumber - no problemo. Wattaguy.

2. Eva told me the first thing she had to do in grade one was to decorate a page with her name on it. The teacher instructed, "No guns, no violence, and no skulls".

Eva drew a mermaid.

Apparently a clamshell bra strapped on a spectacular pair of double DDs is just fine.

3. I have a summer cold and made the mistake of sniffling and coughing in front of Eva.

She chirped cheerfully, "Maybe you have the H1N1 virus".

Note to self: stop letting troll listen to the news.

4. To cap off an awesome day of grade one, she realized this evening that another tooth is preparing to free itself from the confines of her skull. This one is on top, though, which is particularly exciting. It's wiggling just a little, but she's pretty pumped.

My front teeth took about two years to come in after they fell out...and Etienne's were much the same.

If genetics play any role in tooth growth, Eva's gonna be missing her two front chiclets until menopause.

5. A nice day at work. Boss leaving for new job so we had champagne and bagels with cream cheese.

There is no bagel like a Montreal bagel.

Day two, grade one, bring it on.

Whew - that was long

1. Back from hiatus. Blew my writing mojo but I think it's returning. Or maybe my kids were just boring for six weeks. At any rate, will try to do better.

2. School supplies are purchased and ready to be jammed into Eva's piano-sized backpack tomorrow, for day one of grade one.

She needed about four-hundred duotangs this year but I shopped early and managed to find the kaleidoscope of colours required. I did, however, almost dissolve in tears while searching for the special "Louis Garneau" made-in-Quebec notebooks - they were tucked away in a corner of Staples (well, here it's called Bureau en Gros) and it took me about 15 minutes of tearing about frantically to find them.

She also needs three (!) boxes of Kleenex. Not sure if this is swine flu preparedness or they made a special copy of the list for my perpetually boogery daughter, but that does seem like a lot. Anyway. She's geared up for another year of school.

Let the bell ring and the snot flow.

3. Adder changed daycare groups. She's now in the "Coccinelle" group (Ladybugs) and she now has for a teacher, the lovely "Laura" - a former Romanian schoolteacher who DON'T TAKE NO CRAP. Laura makes pre-Maria Captain Von Trapp look like a giant Austrian marshmallow waving a whistle. Girl is TOUGH.

Anyway, Eva adored Laura and we really like her and I'm sure her no-bones approach will work awesomely with Mademoiselle Independence. In fact, on Monday, Adder's first day, Laura wheedled TWO peepees and ONE wee chocolate-chip-sized turd out of her ON THE POTTY. Laura deserves skyrockets, balloons, and a freaking parade, in my books.

4. Have been doing some spider control lately in the house.

Etienne was out the other night and I was climbing into bed when I saw one on the ceiling. Sprayed her with enough RAID to knock down a hippo, but the whore JUMPED into the bookshelf and I LOST HER.

The only thing worse than FINDING a spider in your bedroom...is LOSING a spider in your bedroom.

Anyway, I fretted and fussed and cursed and flailed about for about twenty minutes trying to find her, and finally gave up and crept into bed.

Read for a few minutes, then glanced up furtively to see her streaking up the wall to the ceiling again.

Grabbed the SWIFFER and went to squash her.

SHE JUMPED AGAIN.

And again, disappeared.

I almost wet my freaking pants this time, but managed to be a brave little soldier and just Swiffered like a mad fool all over the floor, as fast as I could, hoping to squash her (the floor has never been so dust free, I might add).

Anyway, I finally saw her leap out of the swinging Swiffer's path onto the wall, so I grabbed the can of Raid again, and sprayed so hard it looked like can of whipped cream had exploded on the wall. I think I hit her but she staggered under the bookshelf.

I haven't seen her since.

I worry that she's just waiting for her moment, when I let down my guard.

Those things are crafty.

And oh yeah, there was a big long-legged one in the bathroom this morning.

Rolled up three pounds of toilet paper and squashed her off the face of the earth.

Screw you, Charlotte and your terrific humble webs.

6. Off to fold laundry and figure out muffin recipes to deal with ten tonnes of strawberries and blueberries that are starting to sog.

Sleep would be nice, too.

xo