tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59803765694257645932024-03-10T04:31:43.718-04:00It's Daddies. Plural.We are Paul & Chris... and we became Daddies (yes, plural) of Kensington Grace on 12/25/2008. This blog is about two dads, gay adoption and life with our princess. You can also find great resources on adoption portfolios / profiles, gay fatherhood, gay marriage, Friends In Adoption, and other items that cross our paths.It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.comBlogger288125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-68078341732341308832014-12-13T08:01:00.000-05:002014-12-14T18:15:44.953-05:00Santa's Been Hitting The Eggnog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lhOCuRdwT8w/VI2I_DyTU5I/AAAAAAACLWA/A1P6bxUMsws/s1600/14042020141213_0004_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lhOCuRdwT8w/VI2I_DyTU5I/AAAAAAACLWA/A1P6bxUMsws/s1600/14042020141213_0004_1.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
'Tis the season where daddy and papa do everything in their power to prevent Kensington from running into imposter Santa's. That has meant distracting her while in various malls, excluding her from the class picture with Santa and ditching community functions prior to K-Kringle entering the room. Kensi is very observant - she can spot the tiniest flaw in anything. Seeing a Santa that is different from the one whose lap she's sat on for four years would stir up questions that Papa isn't ready to answer. <br />
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You see, the one thing we don't do is lie to Kensington. Ever. So this year when <em>the</em> question came, I got a lump in my throat. <br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Kensington: Papa, is Santa real?</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">Papa: [Avoid. Avoid. Avoid] Hey sweetie, are you hungry?</span> <br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">K: Papa, is Santa real?</span> <br />
<span style="color: blue;">P: We're about to go into the store, do you want a treat?</span> <br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">K: Papa, I'm asking you a question. Is Santa real?</span><br />
<br />
Seeing the Santa across the parking lot, I now understand why I got the question.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n9z22xaNCKg/VI2I_ED0KXI/AAAAAAACLWE/m3nHpmEjQH0/s1600/IMG_9149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n9z22xaNCKg/VI2I_ED0KXI/AAAAAAACLWE/m3nHpmEjQH0/s1600/IMG_9149.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a><span style="color: blue;">P: No, Kensi, that man over there is not Santa Claus. He's just dressed up to be festive. You'll see many people dressed up this month as Santa. Remember a couple months ago when it was Halloween and everyone in your class dressed up and you had 32 Elsa's in your school. It was pretend. There can't be 32 Elsa's, can there be?</span><br />
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This seemed to stop the questioning and she moved on to tell me that yes, she did indeed want a treat from the store. <br />
<br />
But then today I got the question again, but it was different. It was from her heart. As we waited in line for almost an hour to see Father Christmas, she grabbed my hand, looked up at me and quietly asked, <span style="color: #cc0000;">"Papa, is <em>he</em> the <em>real</em> Santa?"</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m4snGVrE_zU/VI2JAHafSJI/AAAAAAACLWU/cJyf3q72vdo/s1600/IMG_9154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m4snGVrE_zU/VI2JAHafSJI/AAAAAAACLWU/cJyf3q72vdo/s1600/IMG_9154.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a>I knelt down and gave my little munchkin a hug, propped her on my knee, and pointed into his direction. <span style="color: blue;">"Baby, every year you come here and you sit on Santa's lap. Look into his eyes, that's the Santa you ask for special presents and every year you get what you've asked for. I believe in him. I believe he's magical and if you want to believe in him with me, then we can go and tell him you've been a very good girl and you can tell him the three things you'd like to receive this year."</span><br />
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With that, she grabbed my hand and shook it and said, <span style="color: #cc0000;">"deal."</span><br />
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She went up to Santa, told him that she's been a very good girl this year and would like a locket, a pogo stick that is just her size so she can't fall off of it, and a nutcracker. He leaned into her, took his gloved finger and tipped her nose, and gave her a wink. When she came back over to me, she motioned for me to bend over so she could say something and she whispered, <span style="color: red;">"He <em>is </em>real papa, I know it."</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qyAOVjya_Lo/VI2I-jow7NI/AAAAAAACLV8/P_-B7v28Ouo/s1600/14042020141213_0001_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qyAOVjya_Lo/VI2I-jow7NI/AAAAAAACLV8/P_-B7v28Ouo/s1600/14042020141213_0001_1.JPG" height="320" width="209" /></a>Unfortunately, it looked like Santa had hit the eggnog pretty hard last night by the looks of the picture. In each one that we took, it seemed like he'd been out all night with Blizten. Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging him. That reindeer has drank me under the table a couple times myself!<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-83851818691371375352014-09-07T21:37:00.001-04:002014-09-07T21:37:36.477-04:00GF Princess
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I’m walking around the corner, coming backing for a
meeting in a co-workers office, another colleague stops me. <em>“I was just coming
to get you. Your cell phone and text messages have been going off like crazy. Someone
is trying to reach you.”</em> I left my phone charging in my office and it was out
of sight for the past two hours. I pick up my phone and see that its Chris that’s
called. I look at the clock and see it’s just after 4pm. He’s probably wondering
if I will pick up dinner on the way home. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I give my normal call-back greeting,<span style="color: blue;"> <em>“Hey, what’s up?”<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: red;"><em>“I’ve been trying to reach you. The doctor’s office just
called and Kensi’s test results are in. They want to see us now.”<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">During Kensi’s normal check-up, we asked for them to do an allergen
test. We knew that she was allergic to adhesives in some Band-Aids, but wanted
a full work-up because at times her eyes get watery and her nose runny. To us,
it seemed like seasonally allergies, but wanted a test to be sure. Instead of a
regular grid test to see if she was allergic to anything, they did a full blood
work-up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;"><em>“What do you mean they want to see us now? What did they
say?”<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: red;">“When the pediatrician’s office called to let us know the
results are in, they said we needed to come in for the results. When I asked
them if that should be this week or next week, she instructed me that we needed
to get here right away and the doctor wants to see us at 6.”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I shut the phone off, grabbed my laptop and my bag and ran
out the door. The two and a half blocks to Penn Station look forever. I couldn’t
run fast enough and I felt like I was about to puke. What could they find in
blood results? My mind started to list the different types of diseases… juvenile
diabetes, kidney disease, leukemia. Tears started to spill out and I almost
fell running down the stairs to jump on the train home. I knew whatever it was,
it wasn’t good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">From the train station to the house, I ran as fast as I
could. Once in the door, I grabbed Kensington and hugged her as hard as I
could. She asked me why I was upset and I just held her, telling her that I
loved her and everything was going to be okay. <br />
<br />
Chris and I hugged, grabbed the car keys and were out the door. Kensi was going
to stay behind with Rasmus as in her mind, nothing as wrong. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We got to the doctor’s office and told them that we knew that
we were early, but whenever the doctor could get us in, we wanted to see him. The
waiting room was a madhouse; crying kids, sick kids, kids that were running
around. We waited and waited. Six o’clock came and we continued to wait. Look,
we understand there were sick kids in the waiting room, but you cant tell us
the test results are in for our daughter and we need to get here right away and
not expect us to want answers. We wait. 6:20 comes and we get called back by
some teen-age nurses aid. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="background-color: white; color: lime;"><em>“So, what are you here for today?”</em></span> she asks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;"><em>“Are</em></span> <em><span style="color: blue;">you serious? We’re here for test results. We were
called in.”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Looking at the results, she looks at us and says, <em><span style="color: lime;">“Is your
son, Ken, here with you?”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: blue;">“It’s our daughter, Kensington. Her file, which is in your
hands, tells you she’s a female. Can you let the doctor know that we’re here
and we’d like to speak to him. Now. “<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: lime;">“No problem. But if you want, I have the results here and if
you give me a couple minutes I can try to see what’s going on and let you know.”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: blue;">“No offense, but you have no clue as to why we’re here, you
don’t know who our child is, whether she’s a boy or a girl, even though you’re
looking at here file. I don’t trust you to read anything. Get me the doctor in
here now. “<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: lime;">“The doctor is gone, but I can read these to you.”</span></em><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: blue;">“Look, I don’t know what type of [bleeping] operation you’re
running here, but I don’t have the confidence that you can tie your own [bleeping]
shoe. Get me someone in here with a medical degree, NOW!”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She walks out the door and Chris gives me the look. <span style="color: blue;"><em>“Don’t
you look at me this way. She’s a kid and I’m not going to have her misread
anything when she doesn’t know if our child is a boy or a girl.” </em><span style="color: black;">Okay, my Papa bear instincts have kicked in and Chris knows that if he gets in my way, I'll take him down as well.</span> <span style="color: black;">While there are times I know I should listen to him, when it comes to Kensington, I don't take advice. From anyone. The claws come out and someone is gonna get hurt.</span> </span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ten minutes goes by and I open the door and grab Kensington’s
medical file that has been placed in the holder outside the door. I open it up
and everything looks like it’s written in hieroglyphics. Everything down this
long list of items are showing negative… except a couple items are that in bold
and show positive. TRANSGLUTAMINASE, DEAMIDATED GLIADIN, ENDOMYSIAL ANTIBODY
IgA… I snap a picture of the report and launch Google on my phone. The 12 year
old girl comes back in, <em><span style="color: lime;">“You can't look at those.”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: blue;">“Did you find me an adult that I can talk to?”</span></em> I snap back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: red;">“PAUL!”</span></em> Chris throws at me. I throw him a look and then I retract my claws. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;"><em>“Look, I’m sure you’re sweet and all, but you cannot tell me
that something is wrong with my daughter and not expect me to want to know. I’ve
asked for a doctor and I want one in here right now.”<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: lime;">“It’s our policy that you can’t see those. Someone will be
in here in a moment but I need you to give those to me now.”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: blue;">“I honestly don’t give a [bleep] about your policy. And I’m
not going to give anything back to you. Get me your supervisor in here now.”</span></em> And
I return to my google search. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: blue;"><span style="background-color: white;">“Chris, endomysial antibodies are in her small intestine. Something
has affected her Villi and her epithelial cells.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: lime;"><em>“Hello. Can I help you?”</em></span> Another employee walks in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: blue;">“Yes, are you a supervisor?”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: lime;">“No. I’m one of the nurses here. I see that the door is open
and it should be closed.”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: blue;">“Can you please go get us a doctor so we can know what’s
wrong with my daughter? “<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: lime;"><em>“Sorry sir, but you can’t look at that test. I need them
back.”<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: blue;">“Look, I’m not looking to get into an argument with you. I’m
really not. We were told to get here right away, but wait until 6. We waited
until 6:20. We know there are sick kids in the waiting-room and those take
priority, but you can’t tell us something is wrong with our daughter and expect
us to wait longer than we need to. I will hand these back to a doctor, but no
one else.”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: lime;">“Sir, it’s our policy… “<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: blue;">“Again, I don’t care what your policy is. I didn’t sign
anything, never have been informed of this policy ad I don’t see it in writing
anywhere. Show me where your policy is publicly displayed. Can you do that? No, you can't. So stop telling me about a policy that is written and shoved in a binder somewhere. If you want these back you will either get me a doctor in here or get
a police officer to remove me from this room.”</span></em> I turn back to Chris, “<em><span style="color: blue;">Her endomysial
antibodies are extremely high. Anything from 1.41 – 3.90 is ‘high’, hers is coming
back at 67.”</span></em> The nurse leaves and two minutes later a supervisor walks in the
room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: lime;">“Can I help you?”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: blue;">“Yes, you can. As I said to two other of your employees, get me a doctor.”</span></em> I go through what has occurred
through the day and she looks at me and said, <em><span style="color: lime;">“I fully understand. Why don’t I make
you a copy of the results so when they are read to you, you can be reading
along with them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sorry that you have
encountered a series of mishaps. We are quite busy right now but I will go find
someone that can read these to you immediately.”</span></em> And within 90 seconds we have
a PA in the room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="background-color: white; color: purple;">“Hi, I’m [name] and I’m sorry its taken some time to get
here. Dr. [name] had to leave but I’m his Physician’s Assistant and I will be
more than happy to assist you. If you please give me a moment, let me review
the entire file on your daughter and I can let know you what the test come back
and say.”</span></em> After what seems like forever, she comes back and say’s, <span style="color: purple;"><em>“Okay the
test results came back with some abnormalities and it looks like – while further
testing needs to be done – Kensington’s comprehensive results came back
positive for Celiac Disease.”<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;"><em>“Okay, what does that mean?” </em><span style="color: black;">As I type it into Google as I'm speaking.</span> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="color: purple;">“She has gluten intolerance. The good thing is, once we take
gluten out of her system, she’ll be fine. That’s the treatment. It’s actually
quite common.”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
Note: <span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Celiac
disease is an autoimmune disorder that can occur in genetically predisposed
people where the ingestion of gluten leads to damage in the small intestine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is estimated to affect 1 in 100 people
worldwide. These attacks lead to damage on the villi, small fingerlike
projections that line the small intestine, that promote nutrient absorption.
When the villi get damaged, nutrients cannot be absorbed properly into the
body. Left untreated, celiac disease can lead to additional serious health
problems. These include the development of other autoimmune disorders like Type
I diabetes and multiple sclerosis (MS), dermatitis herpetiformis (an itchy skin
rash), anemia, osteoporosis, infertility and miscarriage, neurological
conditions like epilepsy and migraines, short stature, and intestinal cancers.</span></h3>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I tried not getting upset but I couldn’t hold it back. <em><span style="color: blue;">“Look,
I’m not taking it out on you, but your staff should NOT instruct parents that
they need to get into the office now, to drop everything, for a gluten allergy.
When blood test come back and we’re told we need to get here now, ones mind tends
to go to the worst thing imaginable. Gluten intolerance doesn’t compare to Leukemia
which is what we though we were being told.”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">By the time I was out of the office, I had already found the
name of the head of the top Celiac specialist in the country online and left a
message. The good news was, the center is here in NYC. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TL2iDkUPINE/VA0GzFzs5oI/AAAAAAAB5EI/WzqPLWQk_6Y/s1600/IMAGE_3578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TL2iDkUPINE/VA0GzFzs5oI/AAAAAAAB5EI/WzqPLWQk_6Y/s1600/IMAGE_3578.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two days later, we were sitting in the office of with the head
of the Pediatric GI Department at Morgan Stanley Children's Hospital. During those two days, Chris, Rasmus and I had
done over 20 hours of research on Celica and felt pretty confident in what laid
ahead. This visit was a consultation. He wanted to get to know Kensi and ask us
some questions prior to reviewing her medical records. Based off of what we
told him, he suspected that it was indeed Celiac, but a biopsy of her small intestine
needed to be done. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he’s describing
the process, I pass Kensi – who was sitting on my lap – to Chris and brace
myself as I’m about to pass out. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fact
that they need to put her under, and go through her mouth to get to her small intestine
and cut out a portion of her Villi to see what the damage is, if any, is making
me breakout in to a cold sweat. I’ve worked for healthcare organizations all my
life and the one thing that still gets to me is the thought or the sight of
blood. I can’t even give blood (which I do one a regular basis) without
fainting if I see the tube that is in my arm. All in all, nothing would be
conclusive until we get those results. The initial blood results could be a
false positive and in order to know if it is Celiac, a biopsy must be done. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two weeks go by until we have our appointment for the biopsy.
During this time we’ve told Kensi what was going on and what to expect. The hardest
thing for her was not having anything to eat or drink prior to the procedure. She’s
already scoped out the gift shop at the hospital and told us what she wanted
when she woke up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s 5:30 in the morning and we arrive at the hospital. Doc
McStuffins is at Kensi’s side all the time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OssItdQbe0Y/VA0Gy_tzLtI/AAAAAAAB5EE/dYR8SEDwINw/s1600/IMAGE_3566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OssItdQbe0Y/VA0Gy_tzLtI/AAAAAAAB5EE/dYR8SEDwINw/s1600/IMAGE_3566.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The staff could not have been more amazing. As we walked
into the Laura Rothenberg Bronchoscopy & Endoscopy Center at the Children’s
Hospital, we were greeted with warm smiles and big hugs. They treated Kensi
like the princess she is. After doing all of the in-take forms, we were
escorted to an exam room where Kensi meet other members of the staff and had
her vitals taken, and then was able to choose the flavor of her anesthesia,
bubble gum, and the color of the balloon that she would be able to look at
(blue). Once her doctor came in and chatted with her for a moment, she was
cleared to go. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The procedure itself took less than twenty minutes and then
Kensi took about an hour to come out of her sleep. While we were informed that
there was a small chance that something would go wrong during the procedure,
her doctor come out and said it went perfectly fine. No excess bleeding or perforation
of the bowel. We were told that the results would be back within a week. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kC7sy3yPenI/VA0G0CBHxlI/AAAAAAAB5EU/DZPBGuOmVX4/s1600/IMAGE_3644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kC7sy3yPenI/VA0G0CBHxlI/AAAAAAAB5EU/DZPBGuOmVX4/s1600/IMAGE_3644.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This past Thursday, the results came in. She tested positive
for Celiac. While she hasn’t been showing and symptoms or complaining about
pain, her villi is affected. Once she goes on a gluten-free diet, her small
intestine will start to heal itself and, because of her age, it should only
take a couple weeks before its fully repaired. Because it’s a chronic
autoimmune disease, it means she will not grow out of it. The treatment is a lifelong
adherence to a strict gluten-free diet. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the coming weeks we will be meeting with a world renowned
dietician, one that has written the book on living a gluten-free life because
of celiac disease who will b helping us create a personalized treatment plan
for Kensington. With that being said, we have decided that in order to show
Kensington that we fully support her and the challenges that lay ahead, we too
have decided to live as a gluten-free household.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can’t imaging eating imaging eating
something in front of her knowing that she’d love to have it, but can’t. So, a
family that eats gluten-free together, stays together [I want you to know, I’m
already having reactions to gluten being out of my diet]. </span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vmZFdhI8JXc/VA0GzHlrOGI/AAAAAAAB5Ek/IRGclr2NJXY/s1600/IMAGE_3641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vmZFdhI8JXc/VA0GzHlrOGI/AAAAAAAB5Ek/IRGclr2NJXY/s1600/IMAGE_3641.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This past weekend, there happen to be a large Gluten &
Allergen Free Expo (yes, such a thing exist). We met hundreds of other celiac families
as well as the president of the Celiac Foundation. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve already looked into a Celiac summer camp
(meaning their kitchen is completely gluten-free), as well as other programs that
we will be taking advantage of. Luckily for us, Kensington isn’t reacting to
gluten the way other kids are; at this point in time. Where others have severe
reactions if they come in contact with Gluten, we caught it at the early stage
where her body isn’t fully rejecting it, it’s just not absorbing it the way it
needs to be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iFcTaxplhEk/VA0G0I8XKMI/AAAAAAAB5EY/Qan9XS_c-1M/s1600/IMAGE_3650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iFcTaxplhEk/VA0G0I8XKMI/AAAAAAAB5EY/Qan9XS_c-1M/s1600/IMAGE_3650.jpg" height="245" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The items we brought back from the Expo. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Does this suck? Absolutely. No one wants their child to have
to worry what they eat, or knowing that she will be at birthday parties where
she won’t be able to eat the cake like the other kids, or eat the candy that is
in her trick-or-treat bag. But such is life. Knowing the diseases and disorders
that crossed my mind the when the pediatrician wanted to talk to us, this is a
blessing in disguise. I’ll take this any day. Now, no one said papa may not
cheat at What-A-Burger on his next business trip to Texas, but it won’t be in
front of her! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now we’re in search of the perfect costume for Halloween.
She’s gonna go as the Gluten-Free Princess. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-5720514780267213662014-09-03T04:00:00.000-04:002014-09-07T22:02:22.730-04:00First Day Of School<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So today was Kensi's first day of school. As you can see from the pictures, the adults in the household had a bigger issue with the day than she did!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0y6zn0MU3gWFpwaofe5ZV1XoqLAlDww-hXJXVynEwW7B2wCsnh2GSzbLut3GBVjy7TvoaC1pDerFsg1l5trRbSF1NRzQrPZ8YE5cSvdhhapqXVHVZKFkGyCeNwLBsU9-a9fnnz1JcjZM/s1600/IMAGE_1970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0y6zn0MU3gWFpwaofe5ZV1XoqLAlDww-hXJXVynEwW7B2wCsnh2GSzbLut3GBVjy7TvoaC1pDerFsg1l5trRbSF1NRzQrPZ8YE5cSvdhhapqXVHVZKFkGyCeNwLBsU9-a9fnnz1JcjZM/s1600/IMAGE_1970.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3DeGhcxPot0/VA0Nh-hWRVI/AAAAAAAB5FM/i03zLRt2mqU/s1600/IMAGE_2026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3DeGhcxPot0/VA0Nh-hWRVI/AAAAAAAB5FM/i03zLRt2mqU/s1600/IMAGE_2026.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7K-L0aU8e9s/VA0Nh0ZEmLI/AAAAAAAB5FQ/EGktxUdGjaw/s1600/IMAGE_2052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7K-L0aU8e9s/VA0Nh0ZEmLI/AAAAAAAB5FQ/EGktxUdGjaw/s1600/IMAGE_2052.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DO6aYWHNEqo/VA0NiBo7F5I/AAAAAAAB5FU/U4qKT1_IN3I/s1600/IMAGE_2062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DO6aYWHNEqo/VA0NiBo7F5I/AAAAAAAB5FU/U4qKT1_IN3I/s1600/IMAGE_2062.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOwFFzo_YcH6tVygTRVATWFmRNz13pLtr4C2rw8gEbUKvKGHa1ledE2ytN856ZCj3Htz0nWxiIuisNzmEdbH_MgUXgfFFdzjDC_cPfSQoa9zmfLj2pQjN8vX-ILngHE4G1qxZxcMNcqs/s1600/IMAGE_2090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOwFFzo_YcH6tVygTRVATWFmRNz13pLtr4C2rw8gEbUKvKGHa1ledE2ytN856ZCj3Htz0nWxiIuisNzmEdbH_MgUXgfFFdzjDC_cPfSQoa9zmfLj2pQjN8vX-ILngHE4G1qxZxcMNcqs/s1600/IMAGE_2090.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, the bag wears more than she does!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_FOsq_vSbRhhXCPjjt6-immY6L7rMFLquRfqHrmZQCe-7X77VdmB1FAZxENSdSaOXVY5Jfk_Xl87_STKKnnS4ILyjTSicVva48g6wHxqQaGQFDJYiPcwHjeDqjoQXMDBPOLMlqcbOZNU/s1600/IMAGE_2109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_FOsq_vSbRhhXCPjjt6-immY6L7rMFLquRfqHrmZQCe-7X77VdmB1FAZxENSdSaOXVY5Jfk_Xl87_STKKnnS4ILyjTSicVva48g6wHxqQaGQFDJYiPcwHjeDqjoQXMDBPOLMlqcbOZNU/s1600/IMAGE_2109.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUA0ORYCacwWo6Bmql4eKg03S9cwFYCOiiPlGPq_bo31v9e7GnOiJV7I4EtlTp0eteXnAO1p4QceusYIGSjuiRRs89g6K4dReTXm-2TmhYh8F0brQe7xNJ3tElk8hJRw7y53ImzkwNclo/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUA0ORYCacwWo6Bmql4eKg03S9cwFYCOiiPlGPq_bo31v9e7GnOiJV7I4EtlTp0eteXnAO1p4QceusYIGSjuiRRs89g6K4dReTXm-2TmhYh8F0brQe7xNJ3tElk8hJRw7y53ImzkwNclo/s1600/photo.JPG" height="320" width="279" /></a></div>
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-59573537021788330902014-03-23T10:50:00.001-04:002014-03-23T10:50:36.700-04:00Update: One More Fairy Has Entered The House <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QK4Zevy6j60/Uy7zB-EO9VI/AAAAAAABi6c/EWc5N9j71xE/s1600/IMG_3577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QK4Zevy6j60/Uy7zB-EO9VI/AAAAAAABi6c/EWc5N9j71xE/s1600/IMG_3577.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
Within three hours of being up and excited about her mouthful of investments that are starting to yield in big dividends, tooth number two has exited. Now she's 2/5 of the way to her new pair of shoes. I'm afraid of what her smile will look like when I return from DC on Tuesday. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bjhBixVcTdE/Uy7zLSBUzjI/AAAAAAABi6k/Q52PRmTPt88/s1600/IMG_3572.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bjhBixVcTdE/Uy7zLSBUzjI/AAAAAAABi6k/Q52PRmTPt88/s1600/IMG_3572.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I told her she still didn't have enough money <br />
for the shoes she wants to get, <br />
this is the face she made. Hahahaha. This Tooth Fairy needs<br />
to take out a loan at this rate. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-64611705365543039302014-03-23T08:52:00.001-04:002014-03-23T08:52:27.642-04:00One More Fairy Has Entered The House<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IeTSLCXO3SA/Uy7SHaiV5pI/AAAAAAABi50/ThbdMTmkac8/s1600/IMG_3514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IeTSLCXO3SA/Uy7SHaiV5pI/AAAAAAABi50/ThbdMTmkac8/s1600/IMG_3514.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a>3:58 a.m - Our bedroom door opens and there is a thud on the bed, it's Kensington Grace. She rolls over Chris to the landing strip between us and grabs my face and with hints of ruby red lipstick still on from the night before, says, "She came. The Tooth Fairy came! And she left me a roll of paper." That roll of paper was the special note the she left behind after securing KGrace's first tooth. With crust in my eye (Sandy the Sandman came back and visited the family as well last night), I placed her on my pillow and covered her up, hoping she would quickly come off of her 'missing tooth high' and would go into a deep sleep - at least until 7 a.m. <br />
<br />
She slept with a death grip on the note in her right hand, and her pink tooth pouch in her right. <br />
<br />
Just after 6:30 this glorious Sunday morning, she smacked my sleeping face with the Tooth Fairy's note. With a whistle coming out of her mouth due to the gapping hole in her mouth, and another tooth looking like the Leaning Tower of Pisa occupying some of the new space that just opened up, she screamed again with excitement, "Papa. Wake up. She came. And she left me paper in my pouch and a roll of paper. She really came!" <br />
<br />
Realizing that my parental duties should take precedent over my continued need for sleep, I hugged my munchkin and tried to buy a couple more minutes to allow my eyes to start to focus. "Ken's, lets go potty first and then we can she what she brought you." Chris and Rasmus were already in the kitchen making her a celebration feast in honor of the big day. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GTwnwLSmEe4/Uy7SS2LuFII/AAAAAAABi58/Bnjg0H8FkZQ/s1600/IMG_3517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GTwnwLSmEe4/Uy7SS2LuFII/AAAAAAABi58/Bnjg0H8FkZQ/s1600/IMG_3517.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a>Yesterday, it became apparent that the tooth that has been loose for almost two months now was on the verge of coming out. What we didn't except was the <em>second tooth</em> that was loose, the one that has only been wiggling for a month, would be the first one to jump ship. When she pushed it with her tongue, it made the first move to let us know that its time was up. Chris went and grabbed the dental floss so he could tie a nice little bow around it to help it escape, but that trick wasn't happening. Then Rasmus decided he was just going in for the kill. 10 seconds later, she was giggling with joy that her tooth was out. Now was the time that she's been waiting for... the opportunity to meet the Tooth Fairy. She left her "Tooth Fairy Please Stop Here Tonight" sign on the front door, and placed her tooth in the satin pink pouch that has been waiting for a guest.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SATzfCKda0M/Uy7STD09LXI/AAAAAAABi6A/VWXWTMDLEqo/s1600/IMG_3520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SATzfCKda0M/Uy7STD09LXI/AAAAAAABi6A/VWXWTMDLEqo/s1600/IMG_3520.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
Last night was the first night that we didn't have to struggle with her to go to bed. Normally there are 4-5 excuses throughout the night of reasons why she doesn't need to go to bed, then another 4-5 excuses to get up once she's in bed. Not last night. Once the lights went off, it was like Christmas Eve all over again. She was down for the count. <br />
<br />
The Toot Fairy's note shared with Kensi that this was one of the best teeth that she's ever seen, and thanked her for being a great brusher; and encouraged her to keep up her brushing skills each morning and night. It also stated that she would be back soon for that second tooth (that Rasmus already tried taking out this morning, but Kensi said she needed that tooth in her mouth to eat breakfast with, but may want it out my lunchtime). She was very excited about her "Two Thousand" dollar bill (if only) and also has her sights on a new pair of high-heels that she would like to use her money on. I told her that for the shoes she was eyeing the other day at Bloomingdales, she's gonna need to loose 4 more teeth. I shouldn't have said that. Knowing how much she loves shoes, and now she knows the going price for a tooth, she's going to be in dentures by the time she's 7. <br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-86288717455903928782014-03-02T13:49:00.001-05:002014-03-02T17:58:09.932-05:00It Takes A Village<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-3kumtmpg_VEtkXwtlCUdXkTbetdM40WXs1o79C9nmula9ZzF1WFi4S7R3xgx4eRC3YiE7NlNfYqkqOA1r1qrocy0Ry0rFFitNHOW93cEndx4QlsErq8M7z6Kd-qtmZGYYCtDpGNr3k/s1600/Village.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-3kumtmpg_VEtkXwtlCUdXkTbetdM40WXs1o79C9nmula9ZzF1WFi4S7R3xgx4eRC3YiE7NlNfYqkqOA1r1qrocy0Ry0rFFitNHOW93cEndx4QlsErq8M7z6Kd-qtmZGYYCtDpGNr3k/s1600/Village.jpg" height="195" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our soon to be <em>Madame President</em> once re-penned a proverb,
“<span style="color: purple;">It takes a village to raise a child</span>.” I think that statement still rings true for
every working parent out there. In a time where kids no longer go to school and
come home and play stick ball in the neighborhood, todays activities become
more and more time consuming and require extreme dedication – not only for the
child, but for the parents of such said kid. ‘It takes a village…” also
acknowledges that it takes more than one person to teach a child the ways of
life; and more than two parents, which in today’s society is far from norm. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our youth come upon many different experiences
and circumstances during their life and often times, are influenced by the many
people that surround them. These people show them, through their own actions,
the difference between right and wrong. <br />
<br />
Going back to my initial statement around time-management, when Kensi was a
mere tot, it was easy. Okay, somewhat easy. Oh, alright… it was a juggling
act.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chris and I would be traveling for
work, and we really only had three options: <span style="color: purple;"><strong>A)</strong></span> take her with us, <span style="color: purple;"><strong>B)</strong></span> ensure one
of us rearranged our calendars to meet her needs, or <span style="color: purple;"><strong>C)</strong></span> rely on our "village". <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For many of the occasions when we knew we were both going to
out, we simply chose option<span style="color: purple;"> A</span>. This way Kensi could see the world and
experience new sights and sounds. She got used to traveling on plane, trains
and automobiles and enjoyed the room service and indoor pools of many hotels.
This was a great option when I was traveling for events, not so much for meetings
and conferences. We’d fly in a city on a Friday night, go to an event on a
Saturday, hop on a plane that evening, and then to another event on Sunday
morning and then back home. Was this the easiest option? Well, no. The advantage
was being able to go through the TSA family lane at the airports. We came home with many-a-bruises from lugging her car seat on my back
with her inside of it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know those
Native American mommas used to carry their babies in a <a href="https://images.search.yahoo.com/images/view;_ylt=AwrB8pO9aBNTCEEAtfCJzbkF;_ylu=X3oDMTIzcDUwc2VzBHNlYwNzcgRzbGsDaW1nBG9pZANjMmRlM2M2YmY3NDE2OWFlOWFkYTliNWMzN2YwODJiMQRncG9zAzg2BGl0A2Jpbmc-?back=https%3A%2F%2Fimages.search.yahoo.com%2Fsearch%2Fimages%3Fp%3Dpapoose%2Bindian%26n%3D60%26ei%3Dutf-8%26y%3DSearch%26fr%3Dyfp-t-901-s%26spos%3D12%26nost%3D1%26tab%3Dorganic%26ri%3D86&w=1011&h=1482&imgurl=www.firstpeople.us%2Fnative-american%2Fphotographs%2FA-Navajo-and-Papoose-1914.jpg&rurl=http%3A%2F%2Fkcra-kw.com%2Far%2Fpapoose-indian&size=106.0KB&name=%3Cb%3EPapoose+Indian%3C%2Fb%3E&p=papoose+indian&oid=c2de3c6bf74169ae9ada9b5c37f082b1&fr2=&fr=yfp-t-901-s&tt=%3Cb%3EPapoose+Indian%3C%2Fb%3E&b=61&ni=96&no=86&ts=&tab=organic&sigr=114ccub5k&sigb=145gb8hpl&sigi=12c760itu&.crumb=Qe0EFH7vHxF&fr=yfp-t-901-s" target="_blank">papoose</a> across country
without complaining, but they never had to tote that as well as a diaper bag,
carry-on luggage and a laptop. Pocahontas made it look so easy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You need to surround yourself with a support system that can assist you in your
time of need (as well as in other moments when you haven’t actually realized
you’re in need but they can sense that you are and step in anyway). Chris and I
have been extremely lucky to have that type of system in place. “Aunties” and
“Uncles”, then real aunties and uncles, cousins and friends, all who have
enlisted -not drafted- in the Irwin-Dudek village (I’ll get to the “drafted”
part in a minute). These caring individuals have made a sizeable impact on
K-Grace’s life. Not only have they been a source for us to go to when we’ve
needed assistance, but they have played an integral role in molding her to be
the princess that she is today. Royal prep is no easy task, but these Village People
(minus the Indian who is still carrying the papoose) have made it possible for
us to continue with our careers so we can best provide for HRH. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we moved out of the Pocono’s Kensi’s schedule then came
into play. Being closer to more resources meant she took advantage of more.
Soccer, dance, swimming, gymnastics; she was enrolled in these activities all
prior to the age of 5. With her school in walking distance, it became easy for
the daily routine – getting her to and from school. When you add these layers
on, in addition to play-dates in the park with her circle of friends, complex
arrangements needs to be made. We first started with an occasional sitter; one
that could pick her up from school when we knew we couldn’t get there in time.
We found a great online resource that did all of the background checks and had
client feedback from other parents that had used them. After intense rounds of
screening and putting them to the test, we found a couple that we could really
rely on. Everyone that we found was able to get the job done, but then three
months into the new place and the new school and additional activities were
popping up on her calendar. Kensi’s dance card was starting to get full so we
decided to get a Manny (yes, we ended up getting a male nanny) that came once a
week on Wednesdays; our families busiest day. That nanny lasted for several
months until he was able to secure a full-time opportunity. Then came Mr. Kyle,
who was part of the US Navy’s Special Ops force in Afghanistan. Back from his
tour, and attending grad school, Mr. Kyle took side jobs as security for
celebrities and their children, as well as our lil diva. Chris and I felt
totally comfortable with Mr. Kyle protecting our most precious possession.
Whether it was reading her to sleep or walking the streets of the concrete
jungle with her, we knew she was safer with him than she was with us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xpQEkUcUFHU/UxN18LXxC_I/AAAAAAABikg/cXdKTDz7mJo/s1600/Denzel+-+Man+in+Fire.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xpQEkUcUFHU/UxN18LXxC_I/AAAAAAABikg/cXdKTDz7mJo/s1600/Denzel+-+Man+in+Fire.JPG" height="200" width="167" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Part of
me wanted to take a trip with her (and him, of course) to Tijuana just so he
could escort us around in a black Escalade, fully packing. He was the Denzel
Washington to her Dakota Fanning in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0328107/" target="_blank">Man on Fire</a>. Unfortunately, that has had to
come to an end, not because of Mr. Kyle or anything that he did, but the fact
that he’s in school he has a very set schedule of when he can guard her<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- I mean watch her – and her schedule is
becoming even more complex. </span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kBzGk7jYJ-4/UxN2KR6zDpI/AAAAAAABilM/rwadptMY_pU/s1600/rosario-karen-will-grace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kBzGk7jYJ-4/UxN2KR6zDpI/AAAAAAABilM/rwadptMY_pU/s1600/rosario-karen-will-grace.jpg" height="200" width="134" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’ve come to the conclusion that we needed to looked
to full-time help, and decided to go the au pair route. Between the cost of Mr.
Kyle, our housekeeper Rosario, and the occasion Mr./Miss sitter that
we’ve needed to call upon, we realized that we could not only cut cost by
consolidating roles, but we could provide Kensi with more opportunities that
we’re currently able to. Having someone that can pick her up from school (not
after-care) gives her two additional hours in the day to try something else. It
also allows her to learn a new culture and hopefully create an additional bound
with someone from another country so when she goes and visits there when she’s
older, she has an extended family to reach out to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, this wasn’t an easy decision by any means. Papa is
quite selfish, and he doesn’t like sharing, especially the attention of one
little angel. With that being said, we realized we can’t be everything and
can’t be everywhere. She wants to take cooking classes,
which for her age group, starts at 4:15 on Thursdays and because of our
schedules, that doesn’t work. Because of her new age group, gymnastics is now at
5:15 on Wednesdays, and it takes us longer than 15 minutes to get there. I
don’t even get off the train until 5:30. Soccer is during school (taught there
on campus), but she wants to take additional lessons. Swimming is on the
weekends in the winter and weekdays during spring and summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chris would prefer her not being in ballet
because of the weight and self-image issues this particular form of dance
places on a child, and lyrical and jazz are both before the hours of 5pm during
the weeknight. Now I know what you’re thinking… dance, soccer, gymnastics,
cooking classes, swimming and tutoring lessons all for a 5 year old. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I want to state for the record</b>, these
are activities that she has chosen, not us – well, except for the tutoring lessons.
Those are not an option. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not a
pageant-mom pushing my Honey Boo-Boo to do something she doesn’t want to do.
While I have cheered her on, I’m not scolding her for not sticking her landing
at the gym and making her do hours of practice at home. I’m not counting her
calories, nor am I making her do kicking and blocking drills in the hallway of
our apartment. I am though making sure her homework is done right and she
spends the right amount of time study and practicing her writing skills, so
take that tutors!</span></div>
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<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="https://i1.ytimg.com/vi/f_GH90y4moA/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="https://www.youtube.com/v/f_GH90y4moA?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/v/f_GH90y4moA?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/OY-XWjZ6arI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">These are all activities that she chooses to participate in
and when she wants to move on to something else, she has that ability. We
provide her the means to afford the opportunity, now we just need the means to
get her there. That’s where the Au Pair comes in. While initially I didn’t like
the idea of an individual living with us (they could be a part of the village,
but they don’t need to stay in our hut), it quickly dawned on us that this was
the only option for us if we were to continue on this path of never-ending
activities being added to her roster. She needed some additional stability, and
we needed additional eyes, and hands, and drivers. Our daughter is no dummy;
she knows how to work the system. If we have needed help three nights in a row
and had to use different resources, she has convinced them all that cereal is
an appropriate dinner, fruit roll-ups are okay for dessert, and that an 8:30pm
bedtime is optional. No matter how many times we leave a list of do’s and
don’ts, no matter how many conversations we have and text messages we
send,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she ends up getting what she wants
when she wants. Have you ever seen a straight <span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">Navy Seal
Special Ops</span> </span>wear nail polish, make up and read the three little pigs in
character? Oh, we have. It’s not a pretty picture. Funny, yes; pretty, no. We actually
had a picture of the situation of Mr. Kyle being made up but when he told us he
would kill us if we didn’t delete it. We didn’t want to take our chances so we
deleted it quickly… then smashed up the phone to prove to him that we wouldn’t be able
to retrieve it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RXxUrLV58Qs/UxN2KOyjuQI/AAAAAAABilI/5v8A8k5IG78/s1600/rasmus1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RXxUrLV58Qs/UxN2KOyjuQI/AAAAAAABilI/5v8A8k5IG78/s1600/rasmus1.jpg" height="320" width="308" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chris, Kensington and I interviewed numerous individuals to
be our Au Pair and have found, what we believe,
is the right one. Meet <strong>Rasmus </strong>who comes from Denmark and teaches soccer, swimming,
loves to cook, and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- <em>from what he’s told
us</em> – loves to dance; all of the things Kensington was looking for in an Au Pair.
Kensi loves the fact that Rasmus’s job is to play with her and protect her.
While we did look into a female Au Pair for Kensi, quite honestly, I wasn’t up
for it. No offense to 98% of our fan-base, but I’ve lived with a woman.
Actually, I lived with a few of them (in my college years) and it just wasn’t
fun. Yes, there are the occasional monthly mood swings, the never-ending boy
drama (for those that I didn’t date… well, actually the ones that I did date as
well), as well as the disgusting habit of leaving your unmentionables hanging
from the shower rod to dry. Nobody wants to see it. Seriously, nobody. Yes, I
may hang Kensi’s leotard on the shower rod. I don’t need frilly bra’s and stockings in my bathroom (once
I hung up my crown from my award-winning drag-queen days, I vowed never to have
these types of garments in my house again. And yes, I’ve already told Kensi
these was forbidden in her future, but at the convent she’s going to it in a
couple years this shouldn’t be an issue. I don’t know where they hang the
habits out to dry, but quite honestly, it’s not my issue to worry about). We
liked having Mr. Kyle around… it made us feel uber safe when we knew she was with
him. Knowing that if they were walking down the street of NY and something were
to happen (yes, it’s safe here… but ‘what if’), we would want someone to throw
themselves in front of our daughter. If Kensi gets tired of walking and wants
to be carried (as any princess should be)... If a soccer
coach gets too competitive and starts screaming at the kids for missing a kick,
or fumbling a ball, would Rasmus step in and mediate, you bet his Danish arse he
would. That's what he is here to do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-emynm38zeqk/UxN2J0LLDqI/AAAAAAABilA/sOkLiDG78KU/s1600/Rasmus+and+Kensi+day+One_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-emynm38zeqk/UxN2J0LLDqI/AAAAAAABilA/sOkLiDG78KU/s1600/Rasmus+and+Kensi+day+One_1.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kensington and Rasmus on Day 1<br />
Stop - LEGO time!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OP66quEMUKQ/UxN2Jjf8M-I/AAAAAAABik8/WRkzSbRY4iY/s1600/Rasmus+and+Kensi+day+three+skating.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OP66quEMUKQ/UxN2Jjf8M-I/AAAAAAABik8/WRkzSbRY4iY/s1600/Rasmus+and+Kensi+day+three+skating.jpg" height="200" width="112" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roller Skating in the hall</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8D4WuLJpE9A/UxN2Jy67YXI/AAAAAAABik4/VZMZYt3WcQw/s1600/Rasmus+in+Training.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8D4WuLJpE9A/UxN2Jy67YXI/AAAAAAABik4/VZMZYt3WcQw/s1600/Rasmus+in+Training.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rasmus at Au Pair training... okay, <br />
so he needs to work on his <br />
Arts & Craft skills. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are advantages to having an extra person in the house,
and having that person be a guy, makes us feel a little more comfortable. Yes,
having a college kid in our home dealing with other female Au Pairs in the area
is an issue, and we have vowed to his mother that we are not allowing him to
date nor are we allowing his year in the States be a party for him. Yes, We have welcomed him into our family and will share our
U.S. culture with him, but he is here on a duty – to help us mold Kensi into the fine
young lady she’s becoming. So, our village has opened the gates and welcomed an
outsider with open arms. <strong>Lord help us all</strong>!</span></div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-46914087648751897502014-01-01T12:13:00.000-05:002014-01-01T19:34:02.421-05:00Auld Lang Syne<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pMJo0mYZPuA/UsSvlIDOjjI/AAAAAAABfVg/JbgKGBkcScg/s1600/New+year+Greeting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pMJo0mYZPuA/UsSvlIDOjjI/AAAAAAABfVg/JbgKGBkcScg/s400/New+year+Greeting.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-45629693006416758372013-12-25T17:16:00.000-05:002014-01-01T17:23:03.893-05:00Jingle All the WayKensi loves her new Christmas present!<br />
<br />
<table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" border="0" bgcolor="#ffffff"><tr><td><a href="http://www.smilebox.com/play/4d7a6b7a4d6a4d304d44453d0d0a&blogview=true&campaign=blog_playback_link&partner=msn" target="_blank"><img width="420" height="330" alt="Click to play this Smilebox invite" src="http://www.smilebox.com/snap/4d7a6b7a4d6a4d304d44453d0d0a.jpg" style="border: medium none ;"/></a></td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="http://www.smilebox.com?partner=msn&campaign=blog_snapshot" target="_blank"><img width="420" height="46" alt="Kensington Grace" src="http://www.smilebox.com/globalImages/blogInstructions/blogLogoSmilebox.gif" style="border: medium none ;"/></a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="center"><td></tr><br />
<br />
</table><div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-50774472332197508072013-12-24T23:44:00.000-05:002014-01-01T21:26:54.900-05:00Kensi wants to keep Christ in Christmas... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_5979mO6iWnrqV-9bcwaCuG9fX03XAL2JILO5sDMfJ8BaAkSiqz8AGNZUyrM6e1AhXcBrDf6LHgqOt7b0iLpDmG8O5TkthSt_vUnf5VSgdGlSmayEI0ge_I_-qyubQXTBwCeycIwuDU/s1600/Holiday+Greeting+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_5979mO6iWnrqV-9bcwaCuG9fX03XAL2JILO5sDMfJ8BaAkSiqz8AGNZUyrM6e1AhXcBrDf6LHgqOt7b0iLpDmG8O5TkthSt_vUnf5VSgdGlSmayEI0ge_I_-qyubQXTBwCeycIwuDU/s400/Holiday+Greeting+2013.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong><em>But Santa scares the crap out of her.</em></strong> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">As we prepared to get Kensington to sleep,
tonight we needed to up the ante. <br /><br />
You see, for the past several months, Kensi would - from time to time - get out
of her bed and crawl herself onto ours. And leading up to that moment, there
would be 4-5 times within the first two hour of us putting her
down that she would come up with endless excuses to get out of bed. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: red;"><br />“I need to go potty,”</span> (<em>This one always works,
and she knows it… we don’t need her having an accident in her sleep</em>);<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: red;">“I’m thirsty,”</span> (<em>Two sips of water and then
its back in the bedroom</em>);<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: red;">“I’m hungry,”</span> (<em>This one doesn’t work and I’m
not sure why it’s still in her rotation</em>); <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: red;">“There’s a noise outside,”</span> (<em>We make sure the
ipod is playing in the room so this is a non-issue</em>); <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p><span style="color: red; font-family: Times New Roman;"> "</span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: red;">I'm scared of the dark,”</span> (<em>Don’t start with
me… you have three. Not one, not two, but THREE nightlights on in your room.
Wait. This might actually be why she can’t sleep. No worries, she has a sleep
mask that she got for Christmas last year</em>); <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: red;">“There’s a monster under my bed,”</span> (<em>Yes, and
we put him there to make sure you stay IN your bed. You get out again and we’re
going to tell him he can bite your feet the moment they touch the floor again</em>).<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Okay, the last one is a stretch. We wouldn’t
want him to bite her feet… maybe just gnaw on a toe or two until she realizes that
we mean business. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Tonight, we couldn’t take ANY chances. Santa
was coming and needed to assemble all of her toys so they would be ready for
her to play with in the morning. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9XxvaeJHpuNJ8jrDUkFdgy986yX2MIPD6BT2LVeDXeXoYJRrAuI_GmpbfLaU3KGUxb4PydwcYgE81hD_fl_Rv6UuQ7wE_e41GtSCZKJbhma0boY4mtfRVtjMq7WCobAR5-rlwt0yZtA/s1600/IMG_2186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9XxvaeJHpuNJ8jrDUkFdgy986yX2MIPD6BT2LVeDXeXoYJRrAuI_GmpbfLaU3KGUxb4PydwcYgE81hD_fl_Rv6UuQ7wE_e41GtSCZKJbhma0boY4mtfRVtjMq7WCobAR5-rlwt0yZtA/s320/IMG_2186.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">After Kensi placed Santa’s magic key on our
doorknob (now that we don’t have a chimney for him to crawl down in, he needs
some way to get into the house), we tell her that Santa will come in, but if he
sees her or even thinks that she’s still up, he will leave and take all of the
toys with him. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">She runs down the hall into her bedroom and hops into her bedroom. As I start
to read a book to her (‘Twas the night before Christmas), Chris places our
wireless speakers outside of her bedroom window. Half way through the book, Chris
enters her room with his iPhone hidden behind his back. Mid sentence, he
presses play and outside, you can hear the bells on Santa’s reindeer. Deadpanned
face, Kensi looks at me and says, <span style="color: red;">“You’re done reading for the night. We can finish
this tomorrow. I gotta go to sleep. Now,”</span> and gives me a peck on the cheek. Looking
at Chris, as serious as can be, she says, <span style="color: red;">“Dad, no cuddles tonight, only
kisses. Do you understand?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LUOSl7ZQ7Ds/UsTNhewzSbI/AAAAAAABfWQ/sryYXG8-UTA/s1600/IMG_2199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LUOSl7ZQ7Ds/UsTNhewzSbI/AAAAAAABfWQ/sryYXG8-UTA/s320/IMG_2199.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">“Kensi, what’s
wrong?”</span><br />
<br /><span style="color: red;">“I can hear Santa’s sleigh. I have to get to sleep so I get presents.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our master
plan had worked. </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We wait 20
minutes to start our evening’s activities, waiting until we knew she was out. At
minute 21, Chris walks into her room to check on her and she peeks her head out
from underneath the blanket. <span style="color: red;">“Daddy, I’m scared.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">“Baby, what’s
wrong? Why are your scared?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: red;">“I’m so excited
I can’t get to sleep. Feel my heart beating, daddy, its going fast. I can’t
wait until Christmas but I don’t want Santa to know that I’m still up so I’m
scared he’ll find out. Don’t tell him, okay? Promise?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">“Yes, baby…
I promise I won’t tell Santa that you’re still up <span style="color: black;">[cue music]</span> but you really
need to go to sleep. He’s almost here”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ten minutes
later, she was out like a light. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">_________________________</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br />
</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AI98IwiXKyo/UsTNhSMDoAI/AAAAAAABfWM/H0eBg9KXZOA/s1600/IMG_2244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AI98IwiXKyo/UsTNhSMDoAI/AAAAAAABfWM/H0eBg9KXZOA/s320/IMG_2244.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
This year, Kensi had asked Santa for only three things. We told
her that she’s very fortunate and couldn’t go to him with her initial list that
consisted of everything she’s seen on a TV commercial . Since September, every
toy, movie, character and set of Ginsu knives she’s seen on the screen, her response
was, <span style="color: red;">“I want that. Can you buy me that? Can Santa bring me that?”</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
We’ve had to sit her down and let her know that there are
other little boys and girls that don’t have the things that she has, and Santa
not only needs to make sure there are enough toys for everyone on his list, it’s
also our duty to make sure that we buy some items and help Santa deliver them
to other children that are in need. It took a couple times saying this, but she
understood. We went out and got the toy catalogs from the major stores (These
are NOTHING like it was in my day… I remember they were as thick as the Sears
catalog, or the size of a phone book. Now they are a couple pages, like a
Sunday paper advertisement, as most everything is now online. <br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
She looked through the flyers with a marker and narrowed her
ask down to three; A pink microphone with a stand, makeup, and the latest
LaLaLoopsie doll with blue hair that she can comb (the other LaLaLoopsie dolls
all have hard plastic hair)</div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
When she finally had the chance to sit on Santa’s lap, she
forgot the name of the doll. She was a little stumped as she wanted to make sure
she got a specific as possible so he would know which one to bring her. Heck,
if he’s only brining three things, they BETTER be the ones she wants. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that’s the holiday photo that we went
with. </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span> </span><br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-78621013605138800392013-11-29T18:09:00.000-05:002014-01-01T18:57:30.505-05:00The Thud Heard Round The World<table bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody>
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PFwBeKQPCE4/UsSosidp24I/AAAAAAABfVA/wEfOXjZ5aUY/s1600/cast3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PFwBeKQPCE4/UsSosidp24I/AAAAAAABfVA/wEfOXjZ5aUY/s320/cast3.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">At home with her arm wrapped</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vsiM5aZJCmU/UsSosgURxLI/AAAAAAABfVI/9u_Q3h05QP8/s1600/cast2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vsiM5aZJCmU/UsSosgURxLI/AAAAAAABfVI/9u_Q3h05QP8/s320/cast2.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> the following day in her pink cast</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bOgiEq8GPbg/UsSosl6_bxI/AAAAAAABfVE/ZMTP5QMTHKk/s1600/cast4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bOgiEq8GPbg/UsSosl6_bxI/AAAAAAABfVE/ZMTP5QMTHKk/s320/cast4.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div align="center">two weeks later in her Christmas cast<br />
(having breakfast in bed.. yes, she's milking this)</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-4698790653399238392013-11-25T20:58:00.000-05:002013-12-22T21:01:55.135-05:00Texas T<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCNcQiSFjO4bUhzgFafJtvpqRaEqf-sEdpK5wZ2ICtJLIWg_xH9_GxSVFhH7dPNYXOXYtAObT6byk-bbmUenENcIxuzKU0Vb7cmHuyZTk4XsRna-bIk4yrwgHVLYOdp6GSlzT-oOdn4E/s1600/IMG_4444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCNcQiSFjO4bUhzgFafJtvpqRaEqf-sEdpK5wZ2ICtJLIWg_xH9_GxSVFhH7dPNYXOXYtAObT6byk-bbmUenENcIxuzKU0Vb7cmHuyZTk4XsRna-bIk4yrwgHVLYOdp6GSlzT-oOdn4E/s320/IMG_4444.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">No, not
“Texas Tea”, as in oil, but Texas T as in <em>Thanksgiving</em>. This year’s Lone Star
Rally included a special surprise for our family – Thanksgiving. As we
experienced the rally and honored Mazha while we were in Galveston, we also
took the opportunity to celebrate being together as a family at the beginning
of November. <br /><br />The past three years of the rally have been interesting. Three
years ago we got a blizzard in PA that canceled Halloween and almost postponed
our trip to Texas, last year we had hurricane Sandy that did postpone Halloween and impeded our travel
(shortened our stay to just the weekend), and this year there was, <em>what seemed
to have been</em>, a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico. Okay, maybe not that bad, but
enough where we were home-bound for a day with the TV sirens going off. No worries... we ended up playing 6 hours of dominoes and watching
the water rise outside of our window. We called it bonding. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">With our
usual activities taking place on The Strand, Kensington also experienced her
first haunted house at the old Mayfield Manor, the former home of Dr. Horace
Mayfield, once a respected doctor, upcoming community leader, and son of a
prominent physician in Galveston. It’s an 1867 building that served as a morgue
after the 1900 Storm – still the deadliest storm in U.S. history having killed
an estimated 8,000 Galveston residents. When we entered, Chris told them not to
hold back. She insisted that she go through it and loves the thrill of being
scared and while we tried to warn her, she’s didn’t want to be babied. So we
went through (with a flashlight) and she laughed most of the way through it. When
we were done, she wanted to go through it again. It wasn’t worth the admission
for the first trip, and we we’re going to even attempt it a second time. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.smilebox.com/playBlog/4d7a6b774f5467354e6a513d0d0a&blogview=true" target="_blank">Click here for a photo slideshow</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Kensi
loved the fact that our beach house was 50 yards away from the ocean. Within a
minute, her little feet could be hitting the sand. Besides swimming, burying
her feet in the mud and chasing after seagulls, she loved flying her kite with
Fazha. Unfortunately, after about 2 minutes of piloting the craft solo, she let
go of the string and the kite went soaring up in the air. I tried chasing it
and stepping on the spool, even running through the brush and dunes to catch
it. I had no luck. There was a huge gust of wind that carried it away. When all
hope was lost, I found the spool that went over some power lines and found that
the kite had actually landed on the deck of a vacation home. While I shimmied
my way up the deck the best that I could, there was no way that I could get it.
Cousin Chase also tried working his magic so K-Grace could have her “shark-attack”
kite back. Then Daddy came to the rescue when he drove the truck up to the deck
and I was able to climb on the rooftop of the cab and un-snag the sails. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We also
made our annual trip on the ferry to feed the seagulls. With Chris, Simone and
Jordan off at the spa, a group of us (loaves of bread in tow) stepped onto the
ship and noticed that K’s throwing skills greatly improved over last year.
Mighty impressive. Watch out <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/22/sports/baseball/22kamenshek.html?_r=0" target="_blank">Dorothy “Dottie” Kamenshek</a>, this girl may actually
beat your record. </span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com1Galveston, TX, USA29.3013479 -94.79769579999998528.857886399999998 -95.44314279999999 29.7448094 -94.152248799999981tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-62273070919671580272013-11-15T13:56:00.000-05:002013-12-22T14:26:07.316-05:00This holiday season... let them eat cake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PdnJgFDBMy8/Urcwwdg-18I/AAAAAAABeC0/ebqi7lwGgnU/s1600/IMAGE_3128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PdnJgFDBMy8/Urcwwdg-18I/AAAAAAABeC0/ebqi7lwGgnU/s320/IMAGE_3128.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The holiday season is coming up quickly and
this poor little blog has been unduly neglected. I thought when I changed jobs
it would allow me more time to spend crafting our paternal experiences in my
down time (while waiting in the terminal for the next flight, in the evening
hours at some random hotel or on an Acela train that has been blessed with free
wi-fi). <br />
<br />Needless to say, that hasn’t happened at all. <br /><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Quick recaps of K-Grace’s fifth Halloween: </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
<br />Halloween this year was a whirlwind experience which lead to her treat-or-treating
six times (yes, I said five) in four different states. How does one do this? Why,
with the magic of Santa, of course. If he can travel all around the world in
one night, Kensi can travel to a handful of locations that are separated from each
other by a mere 1600 miles. No big deal, right? <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g-e4X-Uc0rA/UrcwuWpGpII/AAAAAAABeCc/h_5gOW1Lv1c/s1600/IMAGE_116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g-e4X-Uc0rA/UrcwuWpGpII/AAAAAAABeCc/h_5gOW1Lv1c/s1600/IMAGE_116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g-e4X-Uc0rA/UrcwuWpGpII/AAAAAAABeCc/h_5gOW1Lv1c/s320/IMAGE_116.jpg" width="251" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Okay, there was a trick (and treat) to the
multiple locations. First, it started with the festivities at Seaworld, Lego
Land and Disney Land in Florida. The wonder of these two location is that its
Halloween for the weeks leading into the actual date. While we brought Kensi’s costume
with us, the weather ended up being 80 degrees and we couldn’t have our little sugar
cube melt, so we declined the traditional costume and went with festive t-shirts.
We do have to say, Halloween at Disney is ten times better than Christmas at
Disney. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While K-Graces loves her
princesses, she takes after her papa and leans towards the dark-side and enjoys
her villain experiences, especially the headless horseman that lead the parade.
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj30xlePaoSTGmzKyHYuceMgjmpaefakq7FXncY13NFq2IFb3E8P8c86URj4OlC1LIRKBQF02iXYXwzj9Pi_MqAaRZpupSAXuNo09ooqzeyN6dmx9WK2V7Jqu4ZLi8fo-G42yKRWZaxc0g/s1600/IMAGE_327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj30xlePaoSTGmzKyHYuceMgjmpaefakq7FXncY13NFq2IFb3E8P8c86URj4OlC1LIRKBQF02iXYXwzj9Pi_MqAaRZpupSAXuNo09ooqzeyN6dmx9WK2V7Jqu4ZLi8fo-G42yKRWZaxc0g/s200/IMAGE_327.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eTJl8qMtATU/UrcwubVYb-I/AAAAAAABeCk/MdfVZXWAVVw/s1600/IMAGE_2426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eTJl8qMtATU/UrcwubVYb-I/AAAAAAABeCk/MdfVZXWAVVw/s200/IMAGE_2426.jpg" width="158" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VSZk_P3X4OM/UrcwufVS7XI/AAAAAAABeCs/_Gy_Kw9PPGk/s1600/IMAGE_1760.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VSZk_P3X4OM/UrcwufVS7XI/AAAAAAABeCs/_Gy_Kw9PPGk/s200/IMAGE_1760.jpg" width="133" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TYy3qjch4dM/UrcwvVbFf5I/AAAAAAABeCw/AgxEv26BU0c/s1600/IMAGE_2830.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TYy3qjch4dM/UrcwvVbFf5I/AAAAAAABeCw/AgxEv26BU0c/s200/IMAGE_2830.jpg" width="176" /></span></a></div>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QUlE740bKIM/Urcwv2yQ-vI/AAAAAAABeC4/N4UfZaApAwo/s1600/IMAGE_310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QUlE740bKIM/Urcwv2yQ-vI/AAAAAAABeC4/N4UfZaApAwo/s200/IMAGE_310.jpg" width="133" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vx7-BGienp4/UrcwvdrSp5I/AAAAAAABeDg/HVHzN6wsYqg/s1600/IMAGE_3007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vx7-BGienp4/UrcwvdrSp5I/AAAAAAABeDg/HVHzN6wsYqg/s200/IMAGE_3007.jpg" width="196" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GfhjNYigmX4/UrcwxRejrqI/AAAAAAABeDU/e-h-kuB8cpw/s1600/IMAGE_3474.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GfhjNYigmX4/UrcwxRejrqI/AAAAAAABeDU/e-h-kuB8cpw/s400/IMAGE_3474.jpg" width="265" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This leads us to TOT number three; Sleepy
Hollow. I never knew</span> <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">this was a real location, but it is and happens to be only
20 miles north of NYC. So we took a day trip to this tiny village with “Kensi-Marie”
in full getup. Tarrytown gravitated to her more than poor Ichabod Crane. Can
you blame them?<br />
<br />We took a story time excursion at </span></span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Old Dutch Church of Sleepy
Hollow</span> (a 17th-century stone church located on that has a five-acre churchyard
feature prominently in Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow").
The 40 minute story time theme was “</span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Halloween Tales for Tots to Tweens” so we thought it would be a great
little break from our packed agenda</span>.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Boy, were we
wrong. We ended up leaving about 15 minutes into the event, but not without our
own laugh that we will remember for years to come.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When our “master storyteller” started, she had asked the group for a name that she
could weave into the story. A little girl in the first row stood up and belted
out her name, Chloe. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h55tZRmBVV4/Urcwx4ylIBI/AAAAAAABeDY/G3s-l1xe1rw/s1600/IMAGE_3690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h55tZRmBVV4/Urcwx4ylIBI/AAAAAAABeDY/G3s-l1xe1rw/s320/IMAGE_3690.jpg" width="212" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The storyteller echoed in response, <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Great,
Chloe it is.”</span> Then another little girl on the opposite side of the church
stated her name, Nicole. The storyteller then said, <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Great. We will use ‘Chloe-Nicole’
as our character.”</span> That’s when it got comical. You see, Kensi was standing in a
pew behind the other attendees (because she was the only one in costume and was
wearing a wig taller than most of the kids in the room). Kensi raised her hand
and cleared her throat so everyone would notice that she demanded their
attention. The sound echoed through the (sleepy) hollow church. <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Yes, Marie?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4oeGQjTBpwU/UrcwyeC8NZI/AAAAAAABeD8/p1Kf4NDuGn4/s1600/IMAGE_3713.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4oeGQjTBpwU/UrcwyeC8NZI/AAAAAAABeD8/p1Kf4NDuGn4/s400/IMAGE_3713.jpg" width="400" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then it began…<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: purple;">“My name is Kensington Irwin-Dudek, Princess
Grace”</span><br /><br />
There was a small chuckle from the adults in the room. One of the dads at the
front said, <span style="color: blue;">“They call her ‘Bob’ for short.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Okay, love. That’s quite a mouthful, so why
don’t we call the little girl in the story ‘Chloe-Nicole Kensington,’ okay? So
once upon a time in a little village like this one, there lived a young girl by
the name Chloe-Nicole Kensington. Chloe-Nicole Kensington lived in a little house
with her mommy and daddy.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Interrupting the story, Kensi said just loud
enough for the small group to hear her, <span style="color: purple;">“I don’t <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">have a mommy.”</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> There was another
round of stifled laughter from the adults and our narrator rolled with the
punches. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Oh, honey. This story isn’t about you; it’s
about another little girl named ‘Chloe-Nicole Kensington’. So let’s</span> <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">continue. Once
upon a time in a little village just like this one, there lived a young girl by
the name Chloe-Nicole Kensington. Chloe-Nicole Kensington lived in a cottage
with her mommy and daddy.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Kensi, this time a little upset that she
wasn’t taken seriously enough the first time decided she needed to command the presence
of everyone in the room. Speaking in a royal tone and at a volume loud enough
to make the windows vibrate, our little queen belted out, <span style="color: purple;">“Hey Lady. I just
told you, I don’t have a mommy and a daddy. I have a daddy and a papa!”</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At this point, Chris is nowhere to be found.
He dropped on the floor and rolled his body under the ten pews behind us to the
exit and left the building. I only the other hand tried covering Kensi’s mouth
with one hand while lifting a finger of my other and putting it up to my lips
indicating that Kensi needed to be quite. <span style="color: blue;">“Kensi, hush. You’re being rude by interrupting
the story”</span> I tried to whisper. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p><span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Well, Papa. I don’t. So stop trying to shush
me.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I try to cover her mouth again and she pushed
back throwing up her hands in the air and giving me this look like, <em><span style="color: #741b47;">“For the
love of God, stick up for me on this one. The woman clearly is getting the
story wrong and I need to you defend me. I’m not the crazy one here, she is.
Oh, and by the way, where did daddy go, he was JUST sitting here next to you.”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tears are now being wiped away from my eyes
from holding in the laughter and I grabbed her and kissed the top of her
forehead. She pushed me away… I now know not to cross this little diva and to
stick-up for her no matter what. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The story continues, <span style="background-color: white; color: red;">“Okay. Lets try to bring
this back together here people,”</span> now speeding through the part, <span style="color: red;">“Once upon a time
in a little village just like this one, there lived a young girl by the name Chloe-Nicole
Kensington who lived in a little house with her parents.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All is well until two minutes later Chloe-Nicole
Kensington’s mother gets sick in the story. Kensi looks at me, rolls her eyes
and shakes her head. My finger goes up to my mouth and Kensi whispers, <span style="color: purple;">“she
just doesn’t get it, papa.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ten minutes in, and the story is now boring
me, Kensi and the entire audience of 25 so I pretend like I’m trying to find
the bathroom for Kensington and we exit. Unfortunately, as I run around the
church, I forget that the front of the church is surrounded with glass windows
and everyone can see Kensi’s wig running across the cemetery. <br />
<br />That’s the end of this story, but the wig did make an appearance in Texas
during Halloween at The Lone Star Rally and this time no one was referencing Chloe-Nicole
Kensington or where she lived (or with whom). </span></span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tSDbNg3Zin4/UrcwyqDqmlI/AAAAAAABeD4/GKd4eOV8gDU/s1600/IMG_5029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="245" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tSDbNg3Zin4/UrcwyqDqmlI/AAAAAAABeD4/GKd4eOV8gDU/s320/IMG_5029.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
Our little darling was the hit of the parade with hundreds of onlookers wanting
their picture with her or of her. Perched upon her daddy's shoulders (come on,
there were 400,000 people in attendance and with there being a group of us,
her wig being so high we could see her and Chris from three blocks away) people
would stop us for her picture. She would extend her hand as if she wanted them
to kiss the ring, and tell them to <span style="color: purple;">“please hold”.</span> Then she would flap open her
feathered fan and cover Chris’s face. She wanted to be the only one in the
picture. Then she would give the okay to have her picture taken. After a few
snaps, she would hold her hand up as if she needed them to stop, fold up her
fan, and then indicated to daddy that she was ready to move forward. Each
vendor had their Jack-O-Lanterns out filled with candy and when they would look
up and she who was in front of them, would literally empty out their container
of candy into her bag. <br />
<br />
</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgreZGLkEVOJvFzrPJ29EGATe2lwAoYowGuDHr6Vh_ida4hzm8PnAZNkGynnw3xgV5-b-WkXRBLhmaX1kEP6tn-JvH2xxSe94ODVOSmboVKgMW-Iy1tiuWWF1LBX2X8ZJ2ySpARx8AdxI/s1600/IMG_5057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgreZGLkEVOJvFzrPJ29EGATe2lwAoYowGuDHr6Vh_ida4hzm8PnAZNkGynnw3xgV5-b-WkXRBLhmaX1kEP6tn-JvH2xxSe94ODVOSmboVKgMW-Iy1tiuWWF1LBX2X8ZJ2ySpARx8AdxI/s400/IMG_5057.JPG" width="266" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Long live the queen of the Lone Star Rally. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then, once we were home, Kensi wanted to
visit her NJ friends and trick-or-treat at their homes so she “Boo’d” them. She
made Halloween cupcakes and knocked on their doors and surprised them. Not only
by providing them with their own little treat, but asking for, in return, some
of their leftover candies. It worked.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></span><!--[endif]--><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-75237371994703430032013-10-20T20:50:00.003-04:002013-10-20T21:12:52.551-04:00Missing Princess<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GG4LATdlwEnnNZEBQHhJzUCxpGonrj6nzV3KrXJ9745gvy9oOltGuVvoGFZg5jrYyB8H3nZmsS2wllUb8c1gI0iRDKhMXvtnhEphS4HbnUTy8E5qDd7y37DTEAMlxZ4Vse0rU1hgLxg/s1600/rapunzel+srapbook+page.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GG4LATdlwEnnNZEBQHhJzUCxpGonrj6nzV3KrXJ9745gvy9oOltGuVvoGFZg5jrYyB8H3nZmsS2wllUb8c1gI0iRDKhMXvtnhEphS4HbnUTy8E5qDd7y37DTEAMlxZ4Vse0rU1hgLxg/s320/rapunzel+srapbook+page.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Kensington had her biggest highlight and let-down of our recent
trip at Disney’s Magic Kingdom. As we entered the new Fantasyland, she became overly-excited
at the sight of Rapunzel’s tower and insisted we go see it. As we were headed
to our scheduled lunch with the Princesses (more to come on that soon) we told her
we would have to come back. All she could talk about at lunch was going to see
the tower. To be honest, we weren’t even sure if the tower was Rapunzel’s as we
didn’t get a good look at it, but she was adamant that it was. After lunch we
headed back in that direction and asked a cast member how to get to the tower.
This is when we were told the devastating news… you can’t get to the tower.
It’s floating in the forest and while you can see it from the village, you
can’t go visit it. When we told this to her, she was heart-broken. Her entire
body just shutdown. All she wanted to do was to visit her favorite princess,
Rapunzel. Chris tried to console her, promising to give her anything that she
wanted for her to put a smile on her face. It didn’t work. So she did what any
young girl would do. She climbed up on the rock fence, turned toward the tower
and yelled, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rapunzel, let down your
hair. Rapunzel, please let down your hair</i>.” This caused a series of
onlookers to take out their cameras to snap a picture of our own sad princess
on the search for her dream. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">This was the first scrapbook page I’ve done since getting our
new Sizzix Eclipse. I couldn’t find anything to assist with the tower, so I
created the SVG myself from an image I found online. You can download the free
files here. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">SVG Files: </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><a href="http://www.4shared.com/file/49k059wI/rapunzel_tower_cheveron_and_ci.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Rapunzel Tower & Chevrons</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><a href="http://www.4shared.com/file/ipC8ecjL/Mickey_Head_Blank.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Mickey Mouse Head</span></a></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><a href="http://www.4shared.com/file/N6XZU7M_/Sun_Tempate.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Rapunzel / Tangled Sun</span></a></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;">The center of the sun (SVG als</span></span><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;">o included) is a “gold doubloon”
Kensi got from Jake and the Neverland Pirates Disney Jr. show. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">This page is made up of: </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Prism Stand Floss</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Papers: Imaginisce’s “If the crown fits”; Kaiser Craft’s
“Magic Happens” Collection; Glitz Design’s “Plum Crazy” Collection; My Mind’s
Eye<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bohemia’s “Bluebird ‘All-Boy’
Stripes/Light Blue”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Embellishments: Prima Handmade Flowers; Recollections Floral
Embellishments; Recollections Bling on a Roll; Making Memories {note}worthy
trim and Paper Wizard’s “Princess” nameplate</span></div>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
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</div>
</span><br />
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-4834329184766365072013-08-16T13:01:00.001-04:002013-08-16T13:04:32.338-04:00Cowgirl Tough<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After attending a recent Creating Keepsakes Scrapbook
Convention (yes… I’m serious. We actually went to a two day convention), I
decided that it was time to dust off my Cricut machine, catalog our embellishments
and reorganize the craft room. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zo9nsFkKgSo/Ug5Zq2lE7_I/AAAAAAABJlI/pX-RdxmdFuM/s1600/Original+Country+Layout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zo9nsFkKgSo/Ug5Zq2lE7_I/AAAAAAABJlI/pX-RdxmdFuM/s1600/Original+Country+Layout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zo9nsFkKgSo/Ug5Zq2lE7_I/AAAAAAABJlI/pX-RdxmdFuM/s320/Original+Country+Layout.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What I found while doing this was a project that
I started in 2011 that I never completed. It goes back to a visit to Texas were
Kensington and her cousin Roni went horseback riding at the BlackHawk River
Ranch – where Roni worked as a ranch-hand. The issue that I ran across is that
I have no clue as to the look I was going for. I couldn’t find my original sketch
or an image of an existing layout that I saw that I was trying to replicate.
After staring at it for more than thirty minutes I decided that I hated it. I
started tearing the pictures off the page when Chris came in and asked me what
I thought I was doing. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He tried to convince me to go back to the page and
rework it, knowing that there is no wrong way to create a page. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once he realized there was no turning back, he
steered me in the direction of doing a shoestring project, using the inking and
chalking techniques that I learned in one of my breakout sessions, as well as multiple
layering techniques. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wdr89trcjCw/Ug5ZrW1aVbI/AAAAAAABJlU/NT5b6Qz16ug/s1600/Updated+Country+Layout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wdr89trcjCw/Ug5ZrW1aVbI/AAAAAAABJlU/NT5b6Qz16ug/s1600/Updated+Country+Layout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wdr89trcjCw/Ug5ZrW1aVbI/AAAAAAABJlU/NT5b6Qz16ug/s400/Updated+Country+Layout.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is what I came up with. Notice the horseshoe I used for the letter "u". This was taken off the Christmas tree in the hotel that we stayed at the day that Kensi was born. I knew I wanted to keep it but didn't know how to display/preserve it. I think this is the perfect home for it. </span><br />
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now I only have 2 more
layouts to compete for 2011, three for 2012, and then I can get started on her
2013 book. Onward and upward!</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-51206652840735389522013-08-11T11:16:00.001-04:002013-08-11T11:16:53.879-04:00Clothes make a statement. Costumes tell a story.<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Around this time of year, our mailboxes get filled up with
advertisements for the latest and greatest Halloween costumes and major
retailers that have gone out of business (i.e., Circuit City, Linens and
Things, Borders Books), have had their former real estate turn into pop-up costume
stores that seem to always be having a sale. While Chris and I may go into
these stores for the occasional party prop, colored hairspray and bags of
candy, we have stayed very loyal to our children’s boutique that has been
outfitting K-Grace since her first Halloween appearance as <a href="http://www.itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html" target="_blank">Swine Flu</a> - Chasing
Fireflies @chasenfireflies <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /><br />Kensington was like thousands of little goblins this week
that went giddy over the gargoyles, ghosts, princess and cute critters costumes
when they received the newest Chasing Fireflies <a href="http://www.chasing-fireflies.com/costumes/departments/46/" target="_blank">Wishcraft</a> catalog. She opted out of her regular
“Seek and Find” and chapter books at bedtime and wanted me to read <em>every</em>
description for <em>every</em> costume in the catalog and upon turning to the <em>very first
page</em>, she declared that she had chosen her costume – the Skeleton
Princess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguYTZ8Ef8LsQI_jNL8paq54PVaXjyHV6I8kOIyILNDjKl4vSgNH0U0QUcLlNA_sVZVgWGcN1enitKE0-ZPK9odFAhBIUwfjv_0uOH6ffw-PObpOSOgcStXfAMl7qC0pFiq-AGkxPpQyjI/s1600/Skeleton+Princess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguYTZ8Ef8LsQI_jNL8paq54PVaXjyHV6I8kOIyILNDjKl4vSgNH0U0QUcLlNA_sVZVgWGcN1enitKE0-ZPK9odFAhBIUwfjv_0uOH6ffw-PObpOSOgcStXfAMl7qC0pFiq-AGkxPpQyjI/s1600/Skeleton+Princess.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My first thought was
this was going to be an extremely long process if every costume we'd see she
would be picking. But she didn’t. With that </span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">wicked sense of humor of hers, she was adamant that the
Skeleton Princess was the costume that she wanted which threw me in a tailspin.
You see, I have been waiting for <strong><span style="color: #b45f06;">THIS </span></strong>particular Halloween – the Halloween
where she can finally fit into a 4T costume. Since I first laid eyes on the
Chasing Fireflies almost 5 years ago, I have had my heart set on the Marie
Antoinette costume which she could never fit into - unit now. I know this is no longer about me, but… well, it’s all
about me and the pictures. There will be tons of ghost and ghouls and skeletons
running about but the likelihood of another Marie Antoinette (outside of the
queens running around in the Village) is slim to none. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQRpu3mfny4jv_2jR9wY6wNW8APlkbx-S138z2IxtFHDoKFhw80J_n99iLmoK6A7ta5MUhZ5JRLpBFlP3UgS3DEb9AoNdQ2dIQs4GHWCxJeAkk2Rf1SAkUiSQJrB1rwEW0Yq6Ly5u0So/s1600/marie+antoinette+costume.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQRpu3mfny4jv_2jR9wY6wNW8APlkbx-S138z2IxtFHDoKFhw80J_n99iLmoK6A7ta5MUhZ5JRLpBFlP3UgS3DEb9AoNdQ2dIQs4GHWCxJeAkk2Rf1SAkUiSQJrB1rwEW0Yq6Ly5u0So/s320/marie+antoinette+costume.jpg" width="279" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I mean, just look at it… the lavish confection of gold lamé,
lilac and gold brocade and ivory lace, <strong><span style="color: #a64d79;">THIS</span></strong> is a costume treasure worthy of our
little French queen. Plus, the stunning wig – just look at it! And the
accessories add that <em><span style="color: #a64d79;">ooh la la</span></em> that is just to die for. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, what am I going to do about it? Well, I showed her the
Marie Antoinette costume and asked her if this could be the back-up. If they
didn’t have the dark princess in her size, then she wouldn’t be able to reign
over a vast scary-tale kingdom and would have to tell her real kingdom that
"In honor of Halloween, let them eat . . . candy!" She was fine with that
compromise. The way I look at it, 10 years from now, she couldn’t care less
about what she wore for Halloween. 10 years from now, I will still be looking
at pictures of her in a 2 foot wig, wearing a smile on my face. So… here’s the
deal. It’s up to you. Place your vote, we want to hear what you think - Dark
Princess or Prolific Queen?</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"></span></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-91082261478576262672013-07-07T21:57:00.001-04:002013-07-09T00:25:15.037-04:00Tales from the Crypt (minus the creepy skeleton guy)<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Dear Lois, </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">On June 4<sup>th</sup>, it had been </span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">3 years, 3
months and 13 days since I've spoken to mom. I had sat in a group reading with
a very well know physic, <a href="http://www.concettabertoldi.com/home/" target="_blank">Concetta Bertoldi</a>, but it was a quick reading where –
though she did come through – I only had about 90 seconds hearing from her and
I didn’t really speak because I was in shock. Many of the things Concetta said
during that reading made complete sense, including “Your mother is thanking you
for giving her the tea, her lips were dry.” Which, when mom was in hospice, I
was giving her, through a straw, sweet tea because her lips were dry. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When Mom passed, I made an appointment with Concetta for personal
reading, and I was put on her three year waiting list. Knowing that my entire life
was on the internet, I didn’t give Concetta my real name… and I didn’t use my
real phone number or email address. I used a Google number that rang to my
phone, and I made up an email address on the fly so I could receive my
confirmation. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Leading up to this reading, I have been listening to P!nk’s
song, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PFYm9LKsuUo" target="_blank">Beam Me Up</a> (which she wrote with one of my bosses, Billy Mann). The lines:
“</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><em>Could you beam me up, Give me a minute, I don’t know what I’d say in it</em>”…
That’s all I’ve wanted. Just one minute in that parallel universe. Just to talk
to her and to ask her questions “<em>I’m tired of being a fighter. I think a
minute’s enough. Just beam me up.</em>” </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">But you see… that one minute comes and goes so quickly. I had a hundred
and one questions I wanted to ask, but when I was put in that situation, I was
speechless. I couldn’t get anything out. Not that my mind went blank... it that I
was so overwhelmed, I literally couldn’t get a sound, let alone a word, out of
my mouth. <br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So fast forward three years... Chris and I arrived at
Concetta’s house 45 minutes early, so we drove around the neighborhood. Chris
was trying to engage me in a conversation – trying to make me laugh. It wasn’t
working. I was making a mental and physical list of the things I wanted to come
through. Words that would validate it was mom coming through. People that had
passed recently so the names would be fresh in my mind. Songs that make me
remember her, the name of her perfume. </span></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_bm5Rw8TPpI/Udoae6S02uI/AAAAAAABA8s/cPPKmq9OaJg/s1600/Paul+and+Concetta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_bm5Rw8TPpI/Udoae6S02uI/AAAAAAABA8s/cPPKmq9OaJg/s320/Paul+and+Concetta.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we
finally drove up to her house and got out of the car, my palms were already
drenched and I felt sick to my stomach. Concetta greeted us and I went straight
to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face and just tried to focus in on the moment. Concetta
remembered us from three years ago. Not the reading itself, but the fact that
we had met in the past. She tried to calm me and get me to relax. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">She’s just
like she is in her group settings and in her books. After a couple deep
breathes, I was fine. So I thought. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA:
Let me tell you how to have fun with this.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">What I want
to remind you is that these people are deceased and that they will come from
your mother’s side and your father side. Anyone can come through and use you as
a messenger, so what I want you to do – the best you can - is tell me who you
recognize, or how it makes sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay? <br />
You’re so damn cute.</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL:</span>
[Laughing] <span style="color: blue;">I know.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA:
What a good looking kid you are. What are you 12?</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL:</span> [Lying
out my arse] I’m 27. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA:
God. Give me a break. I remember those years.</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL:</span>
[laughing while Chris is giving me that look]</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: lime;">CHRIS: Don’t
even start.</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA:
Well, good. Enjoy it. It goes by very quickly, honey. Okay. Alright. One second
here.</span> [She breathes in deep] <span style="color: purple;">What I want you to do, it’s called “announcing
one’s self”. <br />
It’s very simple. Just say who you are. Tell them your first and last name.</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL:</span> [not
following directions and speeding through it] <span style="color: blue;">PaulIrwinDudek</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA:
What is it?</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Paul
Irwin-Dudek</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Do
I have your permission to listen, please?</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Yes, absolutely.</span> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>[Taking a deep breathe myself and grabbing a
Kleenex]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Thank you.</span> [She takes a couple deep breathes
through her mouth]. <span style="color: purple;">Okay, okay. I have a woman, she’s standing right here. She
calls you beloved son. Now, my question is, you’re very young.</span> [In a confused
and questioning tone, I think she’s questioning the age I’ve given her] <span style="color: purple;">Is your
mother still alive? </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: No.</span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA:</span> [Aha! moment] <span style="color: purple;">Wow. She was right then. I almost
argued the point. I’m so sorry, my God. I’m so sorry darling. You lost her so
young. I almost thought she was your grandmother, because she called you my
son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sorry. I’m just talking out loud.
Um… she thinks you look so much like her.</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">[In the first group reading that I attended months after Mazha
past, she came through for less than a minute and the first thing she said was,
“Look… we look just alike.” It was something she always said, and my typical
response would be, “No we don’t. I’m adopted.” Which legally I am… but that’s
another story for another time. Actually, the day that I left Texas to make the
move up north, in the car Chris said, “wow, you look just like her.” I gave my
typical response, which caught Chris off guard. And for two years he didn’t ask
me any questions about my family because he didn’t want to pry. It wasn’t until
I passed a car on the road that said, “Honk If You’re Polish” and I did. Chris
turned to me and asked me if I knew who my birth parents are, and I had no clue
to what he was talking about. Yes… to this day, Chris doesn’t believe a single
word I say] </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She told me you’re beautiful and she’s telling me ‘I love
you, darling, I love you.’ Actually</span> [pointing to Chris] s<span style="color: purple;">he tells me she loves
him to.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: She actually loved him more.</span></span></span><br />
</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: She telling me he’s a wonderful partner, and she’s
really happy that you’re loved. And she tells me to say it over and over again,
“I’m so happy that you’re loved”.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">[She takes a deep breathe]<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;">Can you tell me who Helen is?</span> [She takes another breath and I can’t get a word
out. I’m physically speechless. I just shake my head up and down and a steady
stream of tears pour from my eyes. Chris is just looking at me because he
doesn’t know who Helen can be and why this has me reacting this way]. <span style="color: purple;">Can you
tell me who… it starts with a “L”. “L-Helen.” I don’t know how to say it.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: <strong>Lois</strong></span><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Who is Lois?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: So,</span> (with my voice cracking and the back of my throat
burning) <span style="color: blue;"><strong>Lois</strong> Helen Stephens passed away before my mother did.</span> [Chris lets out
a gasp and then covers him mouth]. <span style="color: blue;">I never met her.</span> [Dear Lois...]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Well, they are together. Your mother is telling me
to tell you that they are together.</span><br />
[Last night, Chris went to bed early because he wasn’t feeling good. When I
went to bed, the sheets and the duvet had been completed confiscated to his
side of the bed, so I walked into the hallway closet and grabbed 'Lois'. She had
comforted me once again, but this time just hours before she came to visit.] <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She said to tell you…she just telling me about her life.
She’s with a lot of people. She wanted me to let you know that she was chosen
to speak. They always elect a spokesperson and she was chosen. She’s very happy
where she is and tells me to tell you that she no longer suffers. Did she have
cancer, dear?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: No.</span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever she
had, she shows me that she had dealings with suffering. She tells me that her
body… I’m seeing all of her organs shut down one-by-one. Organs… Shut down.
Shut down. Shut down. And whatever it was, she’s happy at where she is because
she’s no longer suffering. </span><span style="color: purple;">Whatever from I don’t know. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She’s with a lot of other people and they are all talking at
the same time. But that’s okay, because she is delighted. <br /><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">Who is Margaret, or Mary or Marie or “M”? Is there Mary, Mae…
something like that?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL:</span> [Shaking my head, no, but I know what she’s wanting to
come through. I don’t make a comment because I want her to get this]<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA:</span> [she takes a deep breathe] <span style="color: purple;">Marianne, Marleen… I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She might be talking about… there are a lot
of people here so, keep in mind, they might be using you as a messenger. They
could be talking about someone who is alive.</span> [I make a mental note that I wanted
her to come back to this - she needs to come back to this. I know what she's wanting to say.]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She’s calling you Paulie. Now, they are saying 'Paulie' because
it almost sounds like there is another Paul. Is there another Paul?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Yes.</span> [This was something that was on my list that I
wrote down to come through in order to validate the reading. In the group
reading, I was called Paulie. She never called me Paulie and it wasn’t until we
got in the car that night that I knew what she was trying to say. This being repeated only validated the reading more.]<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: She’s saying,</span> (moving her hands from side to side)
<span style="color: purple;">“Paul” and then “Paulie”. Who is the other Paul.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: My grandfather.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: He’s Paul and you’re Paulie?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Paul E.</span> <span style="color: black;">[Which is how I've signed my name since grade school]</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: That’s what she’s saying but I interpreted that as
Paulie. “I.E.” Paulie. She’s telling me. But she’s standing with Paul, she
said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t think it was your dad but
it’s was a father figure by the way that she said it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">You are such a good son, and she’s telling me that you always
were. She’s talking about when you were young kids – how many siblings do you
have?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: One<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: She talking about when her children were so young,
you were so sweet. She showing me images of you. She’s talking about you like
you were very skinny and you wouldn’t eat.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: I am skinny and I’m not eating now.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: She says it to me like you were a poor eater. They
worried about you. That you didn’t eat well. And that she was so concerned that
you didn’t eat. She telling me that she remembers when you were little they
would have to make special food – not special food – but only the things that
you liked. You were so finicky. She saying and showing me that they were so
worried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like, if you liked toast, they
would make you a ton of toast. And that was what she liked.</span> [I didn’t remember
this, but did get confirmation from my sister]<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She’s telling me you were very… in the neighborhood. You had
a lot of friends and the kids all played together. Outside. She showing me
images of you as a little kid. A really sweet little kid. And um… pretty.
Beautiful. I don’t know how else to say it. Just so adorable. And she shows you…
well, you have beautiful skin now, but she’s showing me as a child with milk
white skin and even lighter hair that you have now. And she’s saying it like…
you know…</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Well, it’s greying now.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Well, you’re only 27. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: lime;">CHRIS: Paul…<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Okay, I lied about my age.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: You did?!?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: lime;">CHRIS:</span> [Laughing] <span style="color: lime;">He’s almost 40.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: NO, I’m not.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Oh, my Lord, and I believed you. Well, that’s not
fair. And I’m so jealous. You look good. Let me say that. You both are
adorable. But you have a baby face. Your father is saying… no, your mother is
saying something about your dad.</span> (She takes in a deep breath).<span style="color: purple;"> Is he still
here?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Yes.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: She shows him to me… she’s trying to tell me
something about him. She says to you, “Please have patience with him. He
doesn’t always understand everything. And, he tries, but it’s not always
perfect.” But she says, “It is what it is,” and he doesn’t always communicate
well. He’s not the kind of guy who can talk about his emotions and his thoughts
and put them out there –or connect the dots, do you understand?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Yes.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: She’s telling me to tell you that so you understand.
It’s the way he was raised. But she says that she was grateful to him because
he was good to her.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">Do you have a bother or a sister?</span>
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br />
<span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Sister.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Who has the brother?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bothers? Is it your mother? She’s mentioning
the brothers. No, your father… your father has brothers. Have any of them
passed?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: No.</span> [She’s correct, mom had no brothers but dad has
two]<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Then I don’t know who these brothers are, but she’s
telling me they are with HER, the brothers that passed. They’re with HER and I
don’t know how they are connected. But they are together. That’s okay… <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">Do you recognize who is Roger or Richard?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: No.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Raymond? That’s okay… no worries. You’ll get it. He’s
passed. Whoever this man is with the “R”. I just want to say it so you can
listen back to this. Okay? <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">And who is… Rose or Ruth. She’s saying it again, but with a
female sound. Saying the “R”. Is it Rose or Ruth or Roberta?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something like that. Okay, these are people
you’re related to dear, but I don’t know how it fits together.</span> [Ruth i smy grandmothers middle name... but that's all I have on this so far]</span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">[Concetta takes her hand off the table and with her eyes
closed, she brings her hand in front of her faces and smells from the bottom of
the palm to the tip of her fingers]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">Did you mother smoke cigarettes? I can smell them.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Yes.</span> [boy, did she ever]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: She’s telling me she enjoyed smoking.</span> [Smells her
hand again]. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">And who is Ann? An Ann or Anna… a friend of hers.</span> [I shake my
head, no]<br />
<span style="color: purple;">She says…</span> [Concetta turns her head up, with her eyes closed and asks Mom A
question], <span style="color: purple;">“A friend of yours, mam?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">Okay, oh my God, sorry… one second. They are all talking at
once.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">Whose Frank or Fred?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Freddy? Who’s Freddy?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Freddy. Her Uncle</span> </span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: They just brought him home and that’s why there is
so many people talking. <span style="color: black;">[He had just passed two weeks <span style="color: black;">prior]</span> </span>There is a huge homecoming celebration. That’s why so
many people are speaking. It’s a home coming for this gentleman and that’s why
there are so many spirits connected to that?</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL:</span> [Laughing] <span style="color: blue;">So, they are speaking to him over there?
They weren’t speaking to him here on earth.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: On the other side, yes.</span> [Laughing] <span style="color: purple;">I don’t know
what the situation is, but on that side it’s unconditional.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">[What I realized afterwards, is the Ann, or “Anna” that
Concetta was referencing was Freddy’s wife who passed many years ago. She
mentioned Anna, and then went right into Freddy, making the connection that
they were there together]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She’s talking to me about your life. She definitely is
showing me pictures of you growing up. Always being outside… in the woods… you
and your sister</span> [We did live on a huge property, next to the lake, that butted
up against many acres of woods].<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">Well… Happy outings
with your father, too, when you were a kid. She’s showing me the water. By the
lake, but not the ocean. She showing me happy times there. She’s showing me the
woods. She telling me that you were always industrious. You always were able to
earn money and you have a creative mind.</span> [I got in trouble in the third grade
because I operated a boot-leg candy store on the school grounds. I had a 50-60%
mark-up and used my allowance to kick-start my business. Later in high-school,
I had a similar operation and in college… well, we will just leave it at
that.]<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: purple;">And she was always admiring of
that.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">And you always thought of her. And that’s the part that she
says the most…” Thank you so much because you always thought of me. What I
needed.” She is talking about mother’s day gifts. And things you were just so
kind about. That you remembered it all. She knows that you remember something
to do with a telephone number. I don’t know what that means. But something
about a telephone number that you play in your mind. A number. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m seeing it as a telephone number, but you
play it in your mind like it has some significance. To her and to you.</span> [We had
the same telephone number for years, and when she gave up the landline and
moved to mobile, I would still call the home number to reach her. When she
passed, I would still call the number. I still recall the number in my mind
when I’m driving and thing of her]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">What is April? Is that a birthday or anniversary?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is it the month that she past? What is it?
She says she passed away on somebodies birthday.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Nope.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Okay. She says she passed away on somebody’s
birthday or on somebody’s anniversary or holiday. I don’t know what it is, but
she’s showing me – it’s a birthday.</span> [Chris laughs]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: lime;">CHRIS: Its Kayla’s Birthday.</span> [I was trying to think about
someone prior to her passing, but our best friends had their daughter on the
one year anniversary of her passing… and prior to Kayla’s birth, I told
everyone that Cathy was having a girl – she didn’t know what she was going to
have - and she’d be born on February 22. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Yes, there is something connecting that. She says
she knows that you recognize that. <br />
She said to tell you something about William. Who’s William?</span> <br />
[I’m so bad at this game… I shake my head no] <span style="color: purple;">It’s Bill. Who is Bill?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: It’s my uncle.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Who is David, Donald… Danny?</span> [No clue… the only
thing I can think of is as a child we had a family friend, David, that was like
my parents other son. He was between the ages of me and my sister and they
stayed in contact throughout the years… and the funny thing is, now David and I
live just towns apart, even though we both grew up in Texas]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">Um... you have cousins that passed away that are over
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are young. She telling me
you have a young cousin over there that recently passed. Starts with an “R”.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: I do have a younger cousin that passed. His name is
Roger. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: <span style="color: black;">[wanting to slap me, i'm sure]</span> That was “R”, the “Roger” that was coming through
earlier.</span> [Um, yes. I see that now. Sitting back and looking at psychic shows I’ve
watched on TV it always amazing me that people don’t know their own relatives
names… well, look at me – I don’t either].<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She’s trying to tell you that they are standing with her,
because of the celebration of the homecoming of the uncle that passed. She
couldn’t wait for you to get here. You’re in very good health, dear. You’ll
have a very long life. She says you’re safe and you’re happy. And she’s very
happy about that.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">[Turning to Chris]<br />
<span style="color: purple;">She knew you. She knew you, she said. And she has her arms around you and wants
you to know that. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She showing me travels in your future. She’s telling me
you’re travelers. You like to travel.[</span>Chris and I have been to over 16
countries and most of the United States]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">I see Florida in the midst.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>[Chris laughs, as we just may plans less than two weeks ago to go back
to Disney in October]. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">I know you two had a dog. She shows me a dog.</span> [Chris gets
teary eyed, and I haven’t stopped balling since the reading began.] <span style="color: purple;">She said
the dog could see her and that the dog barked at her. The dog was very well
aware of her presence and it’s not your imagination.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She’s saying, “Please know I’m always able to hear you, so
when you ask for anything don’t hesitate to ask.” And also she’s telling not to
hesitate to ask, but say, “In the name of God, hear my prayer” She’s one with
God. She’s loving telling me to tell you how much God loves you and… listen…
</span>[we break for a personal story]. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She’s making sure to tell you that God is love and God loves
all things. She has the answers to the things she’s wondered about. And she
wasn’t sure… but now she is, and she’s loving it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s saying, “tell my son he’s in good hands
– on this side and the other.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">Who is Doris, or Dorothy, or Deloris?</span> [Oh please… not with
the names again]. <span style="color: purple;">Do you know who this is? This is a woman who I believe was a
good friend of hers. I feel like she’s telling me about the friends of hers
that have passed away that are surrounding her and she said… She’s telling me I
said her name wrong.</span> [She never said it, but I know where this is going] <span style="color: purple;">What
did I do? What is your mother’s first name? She said I said it wrong. She wants
me to go back to it. I must have said the first initial, but didn’t say her
name right.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Go back to the “M”.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: That’s what she said… I said it wrong. “Thanks
honey… I know I did… what is it?” I don’t know… Meredith? Mary? She’s telling
me I’m saying it wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m asking her
why she’s not telling me her name and she’s responding to me with “you mis-said
it”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
What is it? You have to tell me because I’m just not getting it?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Mazha<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: I would have never gotten that. NEVER. How do you
say it?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL:</span> [I can’t get it out. I’m chocking on my own breath and
tears] <span style="color: blue;">Masz-ha<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: Okay. So that’s what it is. What background it
that?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: It’s not… we made it up. We called her that.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: What was her given name?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Joyce<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 359.25pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: But it’s the M name that she wanted me to say. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
<span style="color: purple;">And who is Ed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is someone named Ed
there. When you get back, know that your family is a part of this and listen to
this and ask your family. <span style="color: black;">[Okay, family reading this... who is Ed? What I have learned is my grandfather, Paul, was also 'Paul E." His middle name is Ed. Not sure if that is the meaning behind this, but it's what I've gotten so far.]</span><br />
<br />
You have things that belong to her that she knows you treasure. And she’s
telling me “They’ve saved things of mine, Concetta” she’s said. She’s showing
me dishes or kitchen stuff. I’m not understanding it. She telling me your
sister took things that belonged to her and she loves that. She loves that your
sister is reminded of her. She wants you to tell your sister that she loves
her. “Send my love to her” she’s saying.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />Who’s Carol?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;"><br />PAUL: Her sister.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />CONCETTA: She has the connection to Bill, or William. She’s
acknowledging that.</span> [She’s right. Mom;s sister Carol (deseased) was married to William/Bill] <span style="color: purple;">She sends her love.</span> </span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She’s telling me to tell you to tell everyone that I know
that they prayed for me that they loved me and that where she is, is a miracle. Its
home. It’s a miracle. She doesn’t want you to worry about her anymore. She can
hear every word when you speak and she’s still involved in your life and she’s
protecting you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">From when you were this big</span> (making the ‘knee high’ sign) <span style="color: purple;">,</span>
<span style="color: purple;">you loved animals. Kittens, dogs… anything with four-legs and fur – you were
amazing. And gentle (</span>Concetta cups her hands).</span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She talks about your father. He’s not having an easy time.
She says to please understand that he does quirky things because he’s… not able
to talk about his loneliness. So whatever he’s doing, she’s telling you not to
worry about it. He’s doing this in order to survive. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She used to love to laugh – especially with the both of you.
She was an easy laugher, too. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">If you gave her a cup of coffee… and a cigarette, she’d be
happy. She loved them both.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>[Simone
confirmed that when she was younger, before I came along, she used to live on
coffee. By the time I came along, that was replaced by sweet tea]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She loves that she’s no longer in pain. What was going on
with her body, honey?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: She had ALS.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: No wonder… she showed me her body breaking downs. I
saw her legs.</span> [Another item I wrote down prior to arriving at Concettas. I
wanted her to reference her legs] <span style="color: purple;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
she telling me that she can now dance and run, and she loves telling that to
you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">And I love telling you that there is a miracle coming if
these politicians would get out of the way with what they can come up with in
the area of stem-cell research. So vote </span><span style="color: purple;">wisely. She’s telling me there is a
miracle coming, and no one will suffer the way that she did. She wants me to
tell you that, and that she can do anything now. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">Okay, so she’s trying to tell me some dates. January /
February. What is it? Is that when she passed?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Yes</span> [February 22<sup>nd</sup>]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: She telling me that that’s when her crossing was.</span>
[She looks up]<span style="color: purple;"> “Thanks honey!”<br />
She wants you to know you have a long life. You’ll be here a long time and
you’re very healthy.</span> [So, Chris is going before me… I knew it. And with DOMA
being recently struck down, I get full death benefits.]<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;">Things are going very well for you. Are you on the computer a lot of the time?
She showing me you on the computer and she blows on your neck. She goes like
this to you</span> [dusting off her shoulder, and touching her neck]. <span style="color: purple;">She tries very hard
to get your attention and to show you signs to let you know that she’s with
you. And that she surrounds you. She has brought butterflies and it’s not your
imagination. She now that she’s said it, you will start seeing it. It’s that,
or something with wings. She showing something and just know that it’s not a
coincidence. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">I smell a cologne or perfume. I believe it’s something that
you identify with her as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She says
that the perfume… when you spray it you say her name</span>. [The one thing I took of
hers for Kensington is her favorite perfume which smells like Japanese Cherry Blossoms.
When I spray it on her, I tell her she smells just like her Mazha]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />She used to like to make you something to eat, if you wanted
something, when she could do it. What do you want? At the end of her life
everything started to shut down. Not everybody was there. Who wasn’t there? Who
was missing?</span> [Her sister Lisa came down after the fact, while her other two
sisters, Carol and Paulette lived local]<span style="color: purple;"> I know she’s telling me, “don’t
worry”, she just wants them to know – I didn’t want anyone to be hurt by my
leaving. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />She was very grateful to be let go.</span> [Simone, Chris and I all
had seperate conversations with her<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-
against our fathers wishes, letting her know it was okay for her to go. That
she didn’t need to suffer anymore]<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />Very grateful and more grateful to know that she didn’t die
and that she walked into this amazing light, surrounded by so many. And that
every time someone comes home, there is an amazing homecoming. And they take
them in. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />You are very popular at work. I don’t know what you do, but
you have a lot of friends and tons of people respect you. She shows me that you
are very loved by those that surround you. You have a great network. She says
that. Your friends… your co-workers… what have you. She’s showing me very large
groups. You travel around and people know your name and the welcome you in.</span> [I
do… I travel to our Walks or Events, where there can be anywhere from 1,000 or
30,000 individuals, and I’m announced from the stage before I speak to all of
our participants] <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">And in the future you have some dreams that come true.</span> [We
will see]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">Personally, I think it has to do where you live. She’s
showing me a residence change… but it really is happy for you.</span> [Chris and I are
living in our current location on a temporary basis. While we still have our
house in the Poconos, we moved so I could be closer to work in NYC. Now, I have
a 12 minute commute to the Empire State Building, but we know the apartment
that we currently live in is only ‘home’ for two years.] <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">And you’re dreaming about her. Because she says she knows that
you know she visits you when you’re sleeping. And that you wake up and you only
remember little bits and pieces of it.</span> [True, very true]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">So please understand that it’s not your imagination. There
are many layers of sleep; Theta, Delta, Beta… all these lower stages that we
are fluctuating between all the time. When we sleep, they speak to us when we
get into the lower layers. And when we start to really understand that we’re
having this conversation, that’s when the other layers begin to wake us up. And
then when we get to the layers above, it makes it seem like it’s a dream sequence.
So that’s why you’re only remembering pieces of it. I want you to understand
that your mother is talking to you. And you do have long sit downs with her. “I
just want you to know,” she says, “I think you’re beautiful and I love you. I
love you so much.”</span> [Turning to Chris] <span style="color: purple;">And she says that to you too, as well my
dear. [I swear he gave her a large sum of money when she was still here in
order for her to say that. I always</span> knew they had a secret alliance together]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">She’s a good woman. She had a good life and she’s not
complaining, about anything. She’s telling me that the only thing that there
is, is that there is a great lesson in life and whatever came from her dealing
with what she dealt with; her greatest joy is having the family that cared
about her. And now she’s telling me that it’s all done now, and she had the
answers to so many questions that she had… and she loves telling you that. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">Another thing that I want to mention and I don’t know how it
all falls into play, and I don’t know where… but do you guys have kids, because
she talks about your <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">children</i>?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL:</span> [Shaking my head yes]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: I didn’t know how to put it all together, because
she showing me kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many do you
have? </span>
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br />
<span style="color: blue;">PAUL:</span> [eeking out a single word] <span style="color: blue;">One.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: There will be a second. I just want to let you know
because they’re talking about it… You have a daughter. And they are talking
about another child, and I don’t know how this falls into play. You daughter is
extremely bright and extremely adorable and she’s crazy about yous. And she
tries to play the one against the other one, so just be aware of it.</span> [Does
Concetta have a video camera in our house?]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: purple;">She knows your weaknesses and she knows yours. It doesn’t
mean that she’s a bad kid; it just means that she’s a smart kid. And she’s not
big… she’s a little one. She’s adorable and she’s crazy about yous and you’re
doing a great job, your mother said. And it’s like I see these photographs of
you, her, him and the dog. That’s just adorable. Such a sweet family and your
mother is loving it, just loving it because you finally got the happiness you
deserve and that you fought for in your life.</span> [It’s funny that Concetta said
the word, “fought” because Chris and I have been huge advocates for marriage
equally. One would think the entire LGBT community it, but they are not. We
marched in the first Human Rights Campaign in DC in 2000, alongside Ellen and
at the time</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Anne Heche</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">. We
fought for equal health/employment benefits from one - at the time –of the
largest companies in the world, and I started Inclusion Action Teams within my
last job and was the organizations advocate and face of the LGBT Community. We’ve
also been fighting to have our marriage recognized by the Federal Government] <span style="color: purple;">And
she wants you to know that it will continue. <br />
<br />
Your daughter is a mix between the two of you. They show her to be really cute
and, just a mix. She has your personality traits and yours.</span> [Concetta starts
laughing] <span style="color: purple;">They show her much like this</span> [Showing us her crossed fingers] <span style="color: purple;">How old
is she?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: Four<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />CONCETTA: Yeah… they show her like this. And if you forgive
me, a little spoiled.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;"><br />PAUL: Hmm…</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: But, whatever… they say she’s very happy and that’s
all that matters. She’s a very happy little girl and there is no question that
they show a vision that is sweet and loving and bright and successful for her. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />
You mother is saying that. “when you need me, just call me, I’ll be there. It’s
not a coincidence, it’s the truth.” And she’s asking you to send her love to
everyone. She’s getting lower, dear. Please ask me any questions that you may
have.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">PAUL: I know that Kensington has been with us forever. Um…
I’m just wondering how she’s been connected to us. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">CONCETTA: She’s known you many different lives. It’s not a
coincidence that she’s in your lives now. She’s known you many different life
times. If you’ve done any readings on book that talk about past lives – I’ve done
so much research on this, and I know it anyway – but I’m always amazed at it.
If you listen to children, it’s ‘out of the mouths of babes’.</span> [Personal story
cut] [I have read many of these books, as well as all of <a href="http://www.concettabertoldi.com/books/" target="_blank">Concetta's books</a>.
Concetta talked about spirit guide but doesn’t go into it much, whereas other
books talk about how the spirits are connected – See <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/?ie=UTF8&keywords=many+masters+many+lives&tag=googhydr-20&index=stripbooks&hvadid=3020684481&hvpos=1t1&hvexid=&hvnetw=g&hvrand=882605639595858800&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=b&hvdev=c&ref=pd_sl_40mirs0j36_b" target="_blank">Many Lives, Many Masters</a> –
I was hoping for Concetta to give us some insight, but she’s not that type of
medium or physic]. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;"><br />PAUL: The last time we had a group reading, she mentioned
something about a fruit bowl. We’ve tried to figure out what she was saying,
and we have no clue.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />CONCETTA: She’s actually laughing…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has a sense of humor. She’s laughing as I
ask her, “What about the fruit bowl?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s a fruit bowl. I don’t know… all I know is she’s saying that you
have things that belong to her and she loves being in your home. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />She’s showing me photographs of her in your house… She’s
showing me things that you use every day. Stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something in the kitchen. Do you have dishes
of hers? She’s showing my cutlery. She’s showing me the kitchen.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;"><br />PAUL: Her urn is in the kitchen. On the counter next to the
knives. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />CONCETTA: What is it that he has, dear? She’s showing me
little do-dads… little tchotchkes. From the kitchen. Do you have any of those
things? She’s showing me these things… you may not have them, but you loved
them. She’s want me to mention these. Honey, I’m seeing these little things in
the kitchen. And then she’s showing me photographs. So, it has to be something
with the small do-dads.</span> [I wasn’t getting it, but once I got back in the car, I
looked at my list that I wrote and I felt like a complete idiot. I wrote, “Tobasco”.
I used this word for validation. Mom had literally hundreds of different tobasco
bottles decorating the kitchen, as well as tobacco pot-holders, salt and pepper
shakers, pictures and other ‘do-dads and tchotchkes”. She also used this as her
password for some of her email accounts. I was looking for Concetta to use the
word “Tobasco” and not what they actually were] <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />I know she’s talking to your daughter. You daughter knows
her. She is talking with her. She has conversations with her. And you daughter
is being protected by her. She loves that little girl. That’s sweet. That’s so
sweet. I’m so happy for you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />Is your daughter, I’m just curious, is she a mixed race? But
she’s white.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: lime;">CHRIS: Blonde hair, blue eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />CONCETTA: Oh Maron. You’re going to have your hands full in
the future</span> [referencing that she too is blonde and blue eyed] <span style="color: purple;">They show her to
be just like you and just like you… a mix. That’s why I’m asking if she’s mixed
raced. Your mother is showing me you and you. She has so many things. So many
expressions on her face. Your mom is mentioning it. She’s just really fun. Your
mother is talking about it and in love with her.</span> [Mom was/is one of her biggest
fans. She loved Kensington so much and was just so elated every time I would
update the blog and add additional pictures. She got the biggest kick when we
would be in the store together and a stranger would walk up to us and say, “Oh
she’s so cute” and seeing that she had blond hair and blue eyes, and we didn’t,
they would say, “She must look just like her mommy.” Her response would be, “she
looks just like her daddies.”]<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />Your daughter has pointed at her and tried to tell you that
she’s there. It’s not your imagination. Whatever it is, your mother is telling
you that she’s not dead. She’s in the air that you breathe. She’s in the AIR.
A.I.R. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Always In Reach. And she’s very
grateful for the way that you love her and remember her. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: purple;">There you go. I hope this was good for you. You are so
welcomed. You both – because of the way that she is saying it – are good
people. They are telling me, with huge kind of applause, what type of men you
are. They are proud of this. They are all very proud of this, not just your
mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The energy around you guys is
nothing but beautiful. Have a good time in Florida.</span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p>And there it is. A half-hour frozen in time. Concetta was right, it goes quickly. I can say that I now have a new sense... it's almost like relief or peace. I look at things a different way now. Do I still miss her? Like crazy. But now I have a new purpose... to write down all my questions for my next appointmnet. Unfortunately, Concetta is a very busy woman. Her next opening is in 2019. </o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-18422709204750691902013-04-28T17:00:00.000-04:002013-04-28T20:34:24.590-04:00Zoos Go Blue<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTPvY-vr057Bm4lpDEWLDvo6kO-vOp_YE2ii-BnvmrT0QhLtpIt7J-NpGSjWc52Ozom5iL-568KIQr9U1xNMCZF5PwtNeQpXCN1SLhxYXfnPUjXYsJxpO8g5Qumkb51idKJ2hb6FV1k24/s1600/DSCN1091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTPvY-vr057Bm4lpDEWLDvo6kO-vOp_YE2ii-BnvmrT0QhLtpIt7J-NpGSjWc52Ozom5iL-568KIQr9U1xNMCZF5PwtNeQpXCN1SLhxYXfnPUjXYsJxpO8g5Qumkb51idKJ2hb6FV1k24/s320/DSCN1091.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now that we
live twelve minutes away from Central Park, I have been looking forward to
taking Kensi to go see the penguin exhibit. One of her all-time favorite
bedtime stories is “</span><b><i><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">And Tango Makes Three”, </span></i></b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">which we highlighted back
on </span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com/2008/03/it-takes-two-to-tango.html"><span style="color: blue;">March
1, 2008</span></a> PKG (Pre- Kensington Grace)</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">. The book is based on the true
story of Roy and Silo, two male Chinstrap Penguins in New York's Central Park
Zoo. The book follows the six years of their life when they formed a couple and
were given an egg to raise. This egg was obtained from a male-female penguin
couple, named Betty and Porkey, who had two eggs and could not care for both at
once. Roy and Silo took turns sitting on the egg, and eventually it hatched.
The female chick was named "Tango" by the zookeepers. Kensi favorite
part of the book is when the little chick breaks out of her shell. When we read
it, she makes the chip chip (egg cracking) chirp (baby) sounds </span></span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gb9kTwHfkh0/UX2sw8jOktI/AAAAAAAA0MU/Zm1Aymv0obM/s1600/DSCN1090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gb9kTwHfkh0/UX2sw8jOktI/AAAAAAAA0MU/Zm1Aymv0obM/s320/DSCN1090.JPG" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The weekend we moved here, was the weekend of Hurricane
Sandy. Then we traveled to Texas to visit Fazha and the family, then to Disney
for Thanksgiving (and Kensington’s Birthday) and then it became too cold. With
spring finally here, and me working with the Association of Zoos and Aquariums
(AZA) and their member zoos to create a national “Zoos Go Blue” campaign for
Autism Speaks, this weekend was the perfect opportunity to bring Kensi along
while I went to ‘work’ this weekend. Between this, last week’s Walk Now for
Autism Speaks event at Dorney Park that she accompanied me to and ‘Bring You
Child To Work Day” earlier this week, she thinks everyday is a party for papa
at work. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sporting her new penguin earrings and decked out in blue
(well, we started in blue, until a strawberry milk incident), we headed to go
see Tango!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Kensi, being her ever observant self, had to point out
all of the puzzle pieces she saw… including the stickers everyone was wearing.
Yes, everyone. It’s cute in the beginning. After 10 minutes I was looking for a
blue muzzle. <br />
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Tango, unfortunately, went to go visit her cousins in the Bronx Zoo, but we got
to see all of her penguin friends, help feed the ducks some baby shrimp, go
into the rainforest and see the birds and reptiles as well as play in the
waterfall, watch the 4D version of Ice Age, visit the children’s/petting zoo
and gorge ourselves in popcorn and dipp’n dots ice cream. Thankfully, she didn't put two-and-two together to realize this zoo is nothing like it's namesame in Madagascar. No zebras wearing rainbow afro's. </span></span></div>
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After watching the sea lions, we headed through the park over to sheep meadow, through
the daffodils, over to the band shell, to the bow bridge, around the lake, back down to Chess and Checkers, through Heckscher Park – where we stopped to watch a baseball game between the Revolutions and Hells Kitchen (Kensi was rooting for them so we decided to sit in the bleachers and cheer on the Revolutions. Unfortunately, they weren’t to good and Kensi kept calling out “you missed” and “that didn’t go far”, so we got up and headed over to the Hells Kitchen side. My girl only roots for winners!</div>
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We then circled around we found the Friedsam Memorial
Carousel (<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">one of the
largest in the world)</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">, that Donald Trump recently bought. </span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The famed Carousel, with its sweet calliope music and 57
magnificent horses, is the fourth to stand in Central Park since 1871. [Kensi
has ridden carousels in PA, NJ, upstate NY, DC, MA, FL, TX, CA, Ontario, Vancouver,
and now NYC.] After a full day of excitement, it was time for us to go home. As
soon as we exited the park, she was out like a light in the stroller. I couldn’t
dare put her on a subway or taxi and wake her, so I walked thirty-six blocks. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Unlike the other penguin movie that Kensi loves so much (and is currently playing in the background as I type this), papa doesn't have <em><strong>Happy Feet</strong></em>. </span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MwcsB1cZauk/UX2s3D-vYXI/AAAAAAAA0Mc/9JSWxJJno_o/s1600/DSCN1102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MwcsB1cZauk/UX2s3D-vYXI/AAAAAAAA0Mc/9JSWxJJno_o/s320/DSCN1102.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Papa, Kensi turtle is hiding from you..."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUyy9xO3jnRgBXX9lJAiq2uc-vLGNLPtb07Od8LyIikeoTMG0Cz6qx-HYRpG3A5yFIW_cjwjoFQ4OGvaGmSiAyIJOlSsd-PUku8LS9dIHdAOemr6_oZ5BgRpeDQolWQHXGTYH4Olo27uI/s1600/DSCN1103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUyy9xO3jnRgBXX9lJAiq2uc-vLGNLPtb07Od8LyIikeoTMG0Cz6qx-HYRpG3A5yFIW_cjwjoFQ4OGvaGmSiAyIJOlSsd-PUku8LS9dIHdAOemr6_oZ5BgRpeDQolWQHXGTYH4Olo27uI/s320/DSCN1103.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Turtle going to come out and give you a kiss..."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N0YB9yl7JTY/UX2tCqwfGFI/AAAAAAAA0Mw/anWLc-j20Y8/s1600/DSCN1104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N0YB9yl7JTY/UX2tCqwfGFI/AAAAAAAA0Mw/anWLc-j20Y8/s320/DSCN1104.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"all this work makes my turtle neck hurt"</td></tr>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com0New York, NY, USA40.7143528 -74.005973140.3291728 -74.65142010000001 41.0995328 -73.3605261tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-47215925859183049502012-12-31T20:50:00.003-05:002012-12-31T20:50:27.964-05:00Suddenly I See<span style="color: black;">Early this evening, Chris and I saw the movie, <em>Les Misérables.</em> It a show that Chris and I have seen on Broadway at least a half-dozen times (whenever people would come to visit NYC, it would be the one show they'd want to see). We own every version of cast recordings, and even sat through Uma Thurman's version of Fantine (in which we were excited to see her die in). Tonight, in the theater, I cried at a moment that I have never cried at before. Well it could be at a moment that was never seen before because it was added for this adaptation. It's the moment that Jean Valjean realizes that he is now a father with an adopted daughter. </span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x6TpI5IHbZw/UOJAFtaQGTI/AAAAAAAA0Kg/wemBbNBUfDs/s1600/kensi+and+paul.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" eea="true" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x6TpI5IHbZw/UOJAFtaQGTI/AAAAAAAA0Kg/wemBbNBUfDs/s320/kensi+and+paul.jpg" width="320" /></a>Suddenly I see. Suddenly it starts. When two anxious hearts, beat as one.</div>
Yesterday I was alone. Today you walk beside me. Something still unclear, something not yet here; Has begun.<br />
<br />
Suddenly the world seems a different place. Somehow full of <em>Grace</em> and delight.<br />
<br />
How was I to know that so much love was held inside me? Something fresh and young, something still unsung fills the night.<br />
<br />
How was I to know at last that happiness can come so fast? Trusting me the way you do I’m so afraid of failing you. Just a child who cannot know that danger follows where I go. There are shadows everywhere<br />
and memories I cannot share.<br />
<br />
Nevermore alone. Nevermore apart. You have warmed my heart like the sun.You have brought the gift of life and love so long denied me.<br />
<br />
Suddenly I see; What I could not see. Something suddenly has begun. <div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-51749357302968988562012-12-25T19:35:00.000-05:002012-12-26T15:05:34.964-05:00God rest you merry, Kensington...<em>let nothing you dismay. Remember you're our angel that was born on Christmas day. </em><br />
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Today, Kensington celebrated Christmas and her “official” fourth birthday. For weeks now, ever since her Disney Spectacular Birthday Celebration, she’s believed she already turned four, and “no longer a baby”. <br />
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This morning started of a little rocky for our princess. You see, all she wanted from Santa was her pink bike with a pink baby baskets on the front (and later it turned into a bike that also had a pink baby seat in the back – yes, we loved how specific she got. She also added to her list another pair of her white princess slippers, the same ones she wore in her cousin Jordan’s wedding, but two sizes bigger so they would actually fit. Oh, and a last minute request of, yes, you guessed it – pink earrings for her [pierced] ears. Under the tree was a scooter and a miniature version of the bike that she wanted, but she couldn’t see her big-girl bike. You can tell that this upset her by the crackle in her voice. Once I heard that, I gave in and only allowed her to think she didn’t get it for another thirty seconds. When I was a kid, Mazha and Fazha would have let the game continue for hours. <br />
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After the presents were opened, we all headed to church for the Festal Mass of the Nativity. There was a part of The Collect that hit home on this very special day for us; “Grant that we, who have been born again and made your children by adoption and Grace, may daily be renewed by your Holy Spirit.” <br />
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Our little angel has definitely has renewed our faith and our spirit. <br />
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I blog and tweet many of the great one liners that come out of the mouth of our babe… some of the great ones either get censored, or I get the dismissal nod from Chris that tells me that I can never share it, or if I can, it’s only to a select few individuals. Today, Kensi said one of those gems – the best of the year – that once it came out of her mouth, he looked at me and said, “No. You will not be blogging about this.” Too bad I overruled him on this one! :)<br />
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Chris and I went up to the alter to receive the Sacrament; we took Kensington with us so she could receive a blessing. As we were leaving our footsteps echoed through the church, Kensi let out the very loud and disappointing statement, “Hey! Why can’t I eat the body of Christ?” Our echoed footsteps were replaced with laughs and gasps. I tried to quite her down (she’s actually very good in church, either sitting in on of our lap flipping through the hymn book, or playing a game on her iPad with the volume turned completely off). “Papa, why did you get to eat something and I didn’t? I want a body of Christ!”<br />
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As this was our first Christmas in New York, we decided that we needed to do something iconic, something that screamed NYC - so we went to Radio City Music Hall to watch the Rockettes in their Christmas Spectacular. Kensi loved watching the ‘dancing princesses’ and the nativity scene that they did at the end was just breathtaking. She informed us that one day she will be dancing with them. That was just the confirmation I needed in order to enroll her in dance class. Until I can find one that does classes in the evening, she will have to enjoy the cooking classes I got her and her daddy for her birthday. While I do enjoy them cooking at home (it really is one of her favorite things to do), I thought it would be easier to have them cook in someone else’s kitchen… one that I don’t have to clean up when they’re done. So those classes were also a gift to me!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy and Kensi sharing chocolate<br />
milk after the show</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kensi happy with what Santa brought her.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XIIWhKDMdHI/UNtOmzvdZ_I/AAAAAAAA0JQ/nvJqJLmzA9M/s1600/2012+inside+of+card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" eea="true" height="273" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XIIWhKDMdHI/UNtOmzvdZ_I/AAAAAAAA0JQ/nvJqJLmzA9M/s320/2012+inside+of+card.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our favorite gift from our little K-Grace<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com1New York, NY, USA40.7143528 -74.005973140.3291728 -74.65142010000001 41.0995328 -73.3605261tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-4199959172791675642012-12-23T19:36:00.001-05:002012-12-23T19:39:42.164-05:00Darn you Carly Rae Jepsen!<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JP9gjmtG5hk/UNeh0pg1VfI/AAAAAAAA0Io/dVnXtfqt8H8/s1600/IMG_4517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" eea="true" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JP9gjmtG5hk/UNeh0pg1VfI/AAAAAAAA0Io/dVnXtfqt8H8/s400/IMG_4517.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When Kensi gets a song in her head, it can stay in there for days, or in this scenario weeks. Two weeks ago on our walk back from school, we were playing “line leader”, which is just like it sounds – the leader of the line. It gets her to stay ahead of me instead of dragging behind me or riding my shoulders. The only drawback in this game is the 300 yards from her school to our place, there are a couple turns that if she is pretending to be Jackie Joyner-Kersee, she’s out of my eyesight for a brief period of time. This is when the game ‘red light – green light’ comes into play. So on this particular day, she was round the corner and not wanting her to get to far ahead of me, I yelled, “Red Light!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">She turned and with a scowling look on her face, pointed her finger at me and shouted for everyone to hear, <span style="color: blue;">“Hey, I just met you</span> (<em>something a father doesn’t like to hear. I'm glad no one took this as a possible Amber Alert</em>) <span style="color: blue;">and this is crazy… [so] here's my number, call me maybe.”</span> </span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PxOFI5uX43M/UNejOItrbuI/AAAAAAAA0I4/zMyjfqVtplY/s1600/IMG_4515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" eea="true" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PxOFI5uX43M/UNejOItrbuI/AAAAAAAA0I4/zMyjfqVtplY/s320/IMG_4515.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then with a flip of her hair, she took off like a bolt of lightning. I stood there stunned. Shocked at what she said, and then trying to name that tune and complete the lyrics, I swung my backpack over my shoulder and went after her. So does anyone want to take a guess at what she decided to scream as I chased her? Yep, you got it, <span style="color: blue;">“And all the other boys, Try to chase me, here's my number, So call me, maybe” </span>My first thought was to find out where Katy Perry is performing next so I could strangle her. Then I realized I’m old and out of touch with these teenie bopper songstresses and should really look up who sings the song. Now I despise Miss Carly Rae Jepsen!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">For the past two weeks, she walks around the house, and every other phrase out of her mouth is, <span style="color: blue;">“Hey, I just met you.”</span> And now, because of her Auntie Cathy and Uncle Kyle giving her a guitar for her birthday, she feels like she needs an audience every 5 minutes in order for her to strum a few strings and sing a few cords. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Yes, it looks like guitar lessons are in the very near future. </span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com0New York, NY, USA40.7143528 -74.005973140.3291728 -74.65142010000001 41.0995328 -73.3605261tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-59865575101144995672012-12-22T16:59:00.001-05:002012-12-22T16:59:32.580-05:00Christmas with The Christies<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_Xf37NcXQlo/UNYqcVKdzBI/AAAAAAAA0HM/ilegBg2NM0c/s1600/Blog_Mansion_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" eea="true" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_Xf37NcXQlo/UNYqcVKdzBI/AAAAAAAA0HM/ilegBg2NM0c/s320/Blog_Mansion_2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QYBQIW8RtCo/UNYqh-flV_I/AAAAAAAA0H0/zYhU3Rdxvhg/s1600/Blog_Mansion_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" eea="true" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QYBQIW8RtCo/UNYqh-flV_I/AAAAAAAA0H0/zYhU3Rdxvhg/s320/Blog_Mansion_7.jpg" width="169" /></a>Last week we had the opportunity to share a holiday moment at Drumthwacket; the official residence of the governor of New Jersey. The Drumthwacket Foundation, who is responsible for preserving, restoring, and curating the house and grounds, invited all of the garden clubs in New Jersey to decorate the mansion for the holidays, and then Chris and Mary Pat invited some of their closest friends over for dinner. <br /></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-stNF4AVaSl0/UNYqi8BWElI/AAAAAAAA0H8/Fg2Hme78b8Y/s1600/Blog_Mansion_8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" eea="true" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-stNF4AVaSl0/UNYqi8BWElI/AAAAAAAA0H8/Fg2Hme78b8Y/s320/Blog_Mansion_8.jpg" width="213" /></a>Mary Pat Christie and I met a couple years ago at a charity cocktail reception, and quickly bonded over a witty conversation on how we both successfully combined our roles as ‘trophy-wives and parents’ with a business career that is deeply rooted in community service. With conflicting schedules, we rarely get time to see each other, and when CC (what we call Chris and Chris) get in a room together, all they can do is banter back-and-forth about opposing political views. Actually, the views are pretty much the same, determining which party line they belong to is where the jovial conversation comes into play. Anyway, the times we do get together, it normally at their private residence in Mendham, and not Drumthwacket in Princeton. Mary Pat and I both agree that they don’t frequent the Governor’s mansion enough, but they have strong ties in their community and the kiddos are happy at their school. So this trip to Princeton was a treat. <br /></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N1H9H6UPuwM/UNYqbfP2-JI/AAAAAAAA0HE/i9ddIHbKbEw/s1600/Blog_Mansion_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" eea="true" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N1H9H6UPuwM/UNYqbfP2-JI/AAAAAAAA0HE/i9ddIHbKbEw/s320/Blog_Mansion_1.jpg" width="213" /></a>The last time I was in Drumthwacket was when Jim was the governor. While I enjoyed my time there, Dina (Jim’s Ex), didn’t like how close Jim and I were getting as friends so we quickly parted ways. We see Jim every once in a while as Kensi has been taking dance lessons with Jacqueline, his youngest daughter. <br /><br />Back to the original topic. Kensi enjoyed our Songs of the Season outing in Princeton. Chris (the Gov, not her daddy) kept giving her chocolates and candy canes. We would keep declining on her behalf; he would keep wielding his power by letting us know he ruled the state and there were troopers outside the door and could detain us at the drop of a hat. We asked Chris (Gov) to dress up like Santa for Kensington. He declined, but allowed her to sit behind is desk for a quick pic. </div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-66650394186171783682012-12-20T20:24:00.001-05:002012-12-20T21:12:29.283-05:00All I Want For Christmas Is... I recently sat down with HRH to conduct a holiday interview. The Royal Office of Protocol informed me that some questions where off the table, some for security reasons, others were to protect her privacy, and others because she is under contract with <a href="http://cbswatchmagazine.com/" target="_blank">Watch! Magazine</a> and certain questions will be released in her follow-up interview next month (see December’s Issue, page 125, for her first article). <br />
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<strong><span style="color: blue;">What’s your name?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">Kensington Irwin-Dudek, Princess Grace</span><br />
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<strong><span style="color: blue;">Princess Grace, huh</span><span style="color: blue;">? Who is your favorite Princess?</span></strong><span style="color: #a64d79;"> The Pink One.</span> [<em>Aurora, aka Sleeping Beauty</em>]<br />
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<strong><span style="color: blue;">How old are you?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">4. </span><strong><span style="color: blue;">Right now?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">Yes, right now</span> [<em>okay… her birthday celebration that started the week after Thanksgiving kind of threw her off</em>]<br />
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<strong><span style="color: blue;">What’s your favorite color?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">Pink. </span><strong><span style="color: blue;">Any particular shade?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">Light Pink. Next question, please.</span> [<em>I've been trying to get her to say "Blush and Bashful", one of my favorite lines Shelby says in Steel Magnolias. It's not working. One day. I can just feel it. One day she will surprise me with this</em>.]<br />
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<strong><span style="color: blue;">What’s your favorite food?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">Honey Smacks cereal.</span> [<em>and we can attest to that. She would eat this three times a day if we would let her. Actually, one day when I was sick and Chris was on a business trip, I did let her eat this all day. By dinner time, I felt so ill, I told her she could make it herself. That was a big mistake</em>.]<br />
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<strong><span style="color: blue;">What is your favorite toy?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">Legos. </span><br />
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<strong><span style="color: blue;">What is your favorite movie?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">ParaNorman. Remember, we saw it three times.</span> [Y<em>es, but we saw Brave 4 times in the theater and too many times to count at home. Please let this be a sign she’s starting to grow out of the Princess phase.</em>] <br />
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<strong><span style="color: blue;">What do you want to be when you grow up?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">ParaNorman. </span><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue;">Kensi, pay attention. What do you want to be when you grow up?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">What did you say? </span><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue;">What do you want to be when you grow up?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">I want to work. </span><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue;">What kind of work?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">I take it back. I don’t want to work. You and Daddy can work for me. Can I watch ParaNorman now? </span><br />
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<strong><span style="color: blue;">Have you been Naughty or Nice this year?</span></strong> {evil smile} <span style="color: #a64d79;">Nice… but I have been a little naughty at school. Don’t tell the Elf!</span> [<em>Elfie is our Elf on the Shelf. We need him to stay around throughout the year. He puts the fear of God into her.He's better than the "Time Out" chair]</em><br />
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<strong><span style="color: blue;">What did you tell Santa you wanted for Christmas?</span></strong> <span style="color: #a64d79;">A pink bicycle with a pink basket for my baby doll and a pink baby seat in the back. Oh, and white Princess slippers. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #c27ba0;">Telling Santa that she has been good,<br />and then holding a 3 minute<br />conversation with him where <br />he just listened to her. </span></td></tr>
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Side Story**** When we were at Disney one day, I was walking her through the park on my shoulders. She leaned down and whispered in my ear, <span style="color: #a64d79;">“I want pissed."</span><span style="color: #a64d79;"> </span> I quickly took her off my shoulders, shocked at her choice of words and worried that she was going to go to the bathroom on herslef, I found the closest bathroom. She sat on the toilet and told me she didn’t have to go. I made her try her darnest because she just told me she needed to go. To no avail, we left and started walking again. She looked up at me and said, <span style="color: #a64d79;">“Papa, I want to piss.”</span> Asking her if she’s serious or playing she said she was serious. I took her the bathroom again. She told me she didn’t need to go, and I started to get frustrated. <span style="color: blue;">“Kensi, you just told me you needed to Pee. I need you to go, now!”</span><br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79;">“Papa, I didn’t say I needed to go pee.”</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">“Yes, Kensi. You did. You actually said it in a way that Papa would prefer you not to say it.”</span><br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79;">“No I didn’t.”</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">“Kensi, you said you needed to go piss. Now go, please.”</span><br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79;">“Papa. I want my ears pissed. So I can have pretty pink earrings like the princess."</span><br />
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Needless to say, we covered ourselves by letting her know she never told Santa that when they talked. We took additional measures to let the Elfie know one time when she was acting up that he needed to let Santa know. She, of course, cried. We told her she needed to be good all year next year and then maybe, just maybe, Santa will bring her a pair. Now we just need to hope she forgets this conversation. That, or she learned how to say 'pierced'. <br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com1New York, NY, USA40.7143528 -74.005973140.3291728 -74.65142010000001 41.0995328 -73.3605261tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-80166070257435847122012-11-14T08:30:00.002-05:002012-11-14T08:30:45.315-05:00On News Stands Today: Cooking Light<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mtFtV_9FWxU/UKOcsteFFuI/AAAAAAAA0GQ/T499e0AoKrA/s1600/photo+(78).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Hot off the presses, the December issue of Cooking Light. Page 18. </a></div>
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<img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mtFtV_9FWxU/UKOcsteFFuI/AAAAAAAA0GQ/T499e0AoKrA/s320/photo+(78).JPG" width="320" /><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7LwgD2OeNSk/UKOcuJNrrBI/AAAAAAAA0GY/GPA7NDlFxDg/s1600/photo+80.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7LwgD2OeNSk/UKOcuJNrrBI/AAAAAAAA0GY/GPA7NDlFxDg/s320/photo+80.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-1882714402198719752012-11-13T21:41:00.001-05:002012-11-23T09:13:58.645-05:00She oughta be in pictures…<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ndr5rVGDbmE/UKMBb6QdZQI/AAAAAAAA0F4/eezgm4HLCE4/s1600/scankendu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ndr5rVGDbmE/UKMBb6QdZQI/AAAAAAAA0F4/eezgm4HLCE4/s320/scankendu.jpg" width="257" /></a><strong><span style="color: red;">and she is. </span></strong><br />
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Here is the latest school photo of our majestic monkey. Her “Princes” were very worried about how she’d compose herself in front of a photographer that hasn’t had a gallery showing in years. Having lived with the paparazzi constantly by her side since birth, she tends to now avoid the camera. Unless, of course, there is proper lighting, hair and make-up on stand by and her rider is completely adhered to. We can understand her approach. She not only has to live up to expectations of those who follow her, but she must always present herself in a manner that will instruct and inspire her fans to live with a “<em>touch of grace</em>.” God forbid she be caught in an unflattering pose or in a situation that could compromise her reputation. </div>
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If you only knew the pains we went through to get her to sign off on public use of a photo that wasn’t the most flattering. Now, many of you have seen this photo in the past, and we had previously received a verbal reprimand for using it as a Christmas card two years ago. So when an advertising agency contacted us to use it for Sears / Kenmore’s national holiday campaign, we had to promise her <em>another</em> pony. It’s sad to know that her normal fee will barely cover the boarding & handler fees for only two years – the things she does for her equestrian friends. </div>
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZNqCoh2dgmw/UKMB4AXooSI/AAAAAAAA0GA/7Hc3FRCEvt8/s1600/100691_B03_Santa_Tab2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZNqCoh2dgmw/UKMB4AXooSI/AAAAAAAA0GA/7Hc3FRCEvt8/s320/100691_B03_Santa_Tab2.jpg" width="257" /></a>Here is a copy of the finished ad - these will be in the <strong><span style="color: red;">December issues</span></strong> of the following: </div>
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Everyday Food (digest) Formerly Martha's Magazine. This is the last print edition. <br />
<a href="http://everydayfoodblog.marthastewart.com/">http://everydayfoodblog.marthastewart.com/</a></div>
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Food Network (tabloid) <br />
<a href="http://www.foodnetmag.com/">http://www.foodnetmag.com/</a></div>
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<li><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Cooking Light<br />
<a href="http://www.cookinglight.com/">http://www.cookinglight.com/</a></div>
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<li><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
CBS Watch (both standard size). <a href="http://cbswatchmagazine.com/">http://cbswatchmagazine.com/</a></div>
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</ul>
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Please know that the agency will be setting up a magazine signing in Times Square mid-December once we return from her birthday extravaganza. <br />
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We will be sending out special invitations to many of you that will allow you into her VIP reception. Please note, flowers and chocolates are greatly appreciated. </div>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com1New York, NY, USA40.7143528 -74.005973140.3292248 -74.637687100000008 41.0994808 -73.3742591tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5980376569425764593.post-73739888342592801882012-01-16T21:37:00.004-05:002012-01-16T21:53:28.926-05:00I have a dream...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ok83o9HAAXM/TxTdxSTiHjI/AAAAAAAAw_Y/qy2DvTN1WWI/s1600/303963_2285869179190_1022712606_32558579_381535039_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kba="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ok83o9HAAXM/TxTdxSTiHjI/AAAAAAAAw_Y/qy2DvTN1WWI/s320/303963_2285869179190_1022712606_32558579_381535039_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> <em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;">"Who is that, papa?"<br />
</span><span style="color: blue;">"He was a King, baby, he was a true King. One that did so much for his people."<br />
</span><span style="color: red;">"And I'm a princess."<br />
</span><span style="color: blue;">"Yes, honey, you are. And you too will change the world."</span></span></em><br />
This was the conversation that took place this past October when we visited the Washington, DC Martin Luther King, Jr. National Memorial, two days after it opened. As we entered from Independence Avenue, his <em>Vision of America</em> is captured in his carved messages of hope and possibility for a future anchored in dignity, sensitivity, and mutual respect; a message that challenges each of us to recognize that America's true strength lies in its diversity of talents. These two inscription walls, lay in between the <em>Mountain of Despair</em>, and lead you in a trance to the <em>Stone of Hope</em>. As we made our way towards the towering symbolic stone, Kensington skipped in between each quote, stomping on the covered lights that reflect upward. Just past 10pm, the monument was rather quite… the perfect time for seeing some of the most iconic images of our Nation. As we came around the marbled landscaped “kidney” (which host Yoshino cherry trees and crape myrtles) which Kensington was using as a balance beam, I pulled her down and walked toward the statue, tears streaming in absolute awe. With her little pointer finger in the air, she asked the question, <span style="color: red;">"Who is that, papa?”<br />
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</span>Around this timeframe, the media was still covering the life – and heartrending passing – of Steve Jobs. For many, there was a fascination with the well-known in the world of adoption and foster care: actors, entertainers, athletes, politicians, and others. Well, I guess there always has been, dating back to when Joseph the carpenter adopted Jesus. Since then, the picture of the typical or "normal" family - with a father, mother, 2.5 kids, a camel… all living in a manger surrounded by a white-picket fence, has become less and less familiar over time. These days, families are "blended" (or I would like to say, “Modern”), and more than a little creative in terms of structure. <br />
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What bothered me the most about the stories of Steve Jobs and his bio- and adoptive-parents were the editorial comments that stated that even though he was adopted, it “he clearly didn't let that set him back.” Being adopted isn’t a set-back, but a step forward. A step in a direction along a journey that must be looked at as a gift, for everyone involved. <br />
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When I told K-Grace that she too will change the world, just like Martin Luther King, Jr. has, I know deep down inside me that she will. Will she find a cure for cancer, AIDS or autism? Well, hopefully we don’t have to wait twenty more years before we can find the answers we need for these diseases, viruses and development disorders. Will she be the first female president? Well, we’re optimistic that there will be a 2016 ticket for Hillary and we don’t have to wait until Kensington finishes up her second senatorial term before she makes up her mind if she wants to run for the Oval Office or not. Let’s face it, no one is predestined for greatness (well, except those adoptive individuals like Jesus… oh, and Prince William and our future daughter/son-in-law that he and Kate will soon have). <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C5UXfiF4OVQ/TxTd0DoZMrI/AAAAAAAAw_o/rdkALFFogSU/s1600/plaqueGranite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kba="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C5UXfiF4OVQ/TxTd0DoZMrI/AAAAAAAAw_o/rdkALFFogSU/s200/plaqueGranite.jpg" width="155" /></a>But as I type this, I remember that the next day after we went to the monument, we went to the National Souvenir Store to buy a piece of the <em>Stone of Hope</em>… an actual piece of granite from the stone that they chisled MLK Jr. out of, that they mounted to a beautiful walnut finished plaque. With only 5000 in existence, we were able to purchase #931. While we were in the store, Kensington asked us if she could pick out something for herself. Thinking she was going to select one of the chotchkies that they had displayed at the register, she told her to pick something out. She turned around and went over to the bookshelf. Without the slightest hesitation on what she wanted, she reached out her little hand, selected the book that she wanted and brought it over to the counter. Without even looking at the book, we paid for it and into a bag it went. On the way home, Kensi asked if she could have her book. We gave it to her, knowing that she would probably be easily bored with it as it didn’t have pictures. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMuCWlr-xNcUA3Bpv1ROzDpc840kOjfxNqi9YPPB4elEsRIPFPh9kV9FlANt6EzXYqV9pHF7iQ3eigESUkQ_8uj3gfdDf1nXJKSNFUqrXQ9BTE2LZfbnl6LPF9rz8rv7Lrva6Kc3TJWwI/s1600/73234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMuCWlr-xNcUA3Bpv1ROzDpc840kOjfxNqi9YPPB4elEsRIPFPh9kV9FlANt6EzXYqV9pHF7iQ3eigESUkQ_8uj3gfdDf1nXJKSNFUqrXQ9BTE2LZfbnl6LPF9rz8rv7Lrva6Kc3TJWwI/s200/73234.jpg" width="138" /></a>For an hour, she pretended to read it. It wasn’t until we were unpacking the car did we see what the book actually was: <em>Mary America. First girl President of the United States</em>… who happened to be an orphan. I take it back, Hillary shouldn’t run for office again. My girl’s gonna make history. </div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">For more about Kensington and her two daddies, visit:
http://itsdaddiesplural.blogspot.com</div>It's Daddies. Plural.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12705585188544766256noreply@blogger.com4