It's been a week since Pita died, and I'm finally ready to fill in a few blanks. Last Wednesday night, she was gasping for breath and could no longer make it to the litter box each time. We made the decision that night. She slept in bed with me - Jason took the sofa - and I called the vet the next day. Then after work, I took her there. I still can't talk about that.

I picked up her ashes at Schoedinger Funeral Home, where she was cremated, yesterday. They also had a paw print and a fur clipping. The fur make me sad, but opening up the little wooden box and seeing her ashes in there, all that was left of her, I just stared crying again. I miss my baby kitty.

In the meantime, adding to the Unluckiest Year Ever, I was turning into Veronica's daycare this evening when a woman rear-ended my car. She was going pretty fast and hit me so hard that the front end of her car was underneath my rear bumper, and one of my rear tires no longer touched the ground. I was checked out by medics, the other lady's car was towed away, and a policeman took a report and cited the other woman. I know it could've been much worse, but dammit, it's just more to deal with. I really didn't need this.

I need to get some rest. Car wreck or no, still need to do laundry, still need to hit the grocery store, still need to go back to Veronica's daycare center and drive my car home (the car should run, but I was in no condition to drive it right after the wreck.) Plus now I have the hiccups and Jason's chasing Veronica around the house, as she has a poopy diaper but would rather play right now than have it changed. (sigh).

Rest in Peace, Pita.

August 1994 - September 15, 2005

I know, I know, it's been a while. Not much has happened, really. Pita is on medication and is still hanging on. I'm still temping. And Veronica is loving daycare, learning things every day and speaking more and more, each word a little clearer from day to day.

One thing I need to note, though, and that's Veronica's latest obsession:

Monsters.

She loves monsters, and the bad guys in her cartoons (Neptune and Dennis in the SpongeBob movie, and especially Mojo Jojo from The PowerPuff Girls, her current favorite.) When given a choice of some plush figures from Shrek, she turned down Puss in Boots and Donkey in favor of Shrek himself. She plays with some of Jason's old action figures, mostly a collection of medieval dwarves and a McFarlane figure of Odin. She loves watching Teen Titans.

Now, she does have toys and likes that are a bit more "typical" - she has stuffed animals, her favorites being bears, kitty cats and puppy dogs, and she loves her Fisher Price Little People. But the Little People often play with Gimli, and she seems bummed that Odin won't fit in their house. It's really funny. It's really cute.

And unfortunately, it drives me nuts.

It's stupid, really. So she likes toy cars and monsters and such, things traditionally thought of as boys' toys, boys' cartoons. I always thought I'd be a cool mom and eschew such labeling, letting her like whatever she likes. And I do, for the most part. But part of me also tries to show her Barbie dolls and Strawberry Shortcake figures when we go to a toy department, and I get disappointed when she ignores them all. I hope I don't show it, but I know I probably do. And I know better, I really do. I guess the stereotypes of what's normal are pretty ingrained in me. I always thought I'd ignore them, but it turns out I'm fighting them instead. It's just an odd feeling, really.

So right now she's watching The PowerPuff Girls movie for the umpteenth time, playing with her Creatrix monsters and her little people, occasionally noshing on a chicken nugget. She's fighting a cold and a bout of pinkeye, but overall she's healthy and happy, filthy from lots of fun on the playground. And if Mojo Jojo and strange creatures keep her smiling, then so be it. I have to get over my hangups, and not give any to her.