Guess Who’s Back: A Week In The Life Of A (Semi-Retired) Pageant Judge

Well guys, I’ve blown the dust off of my sequins and tried on every single thing in my closet I can still squeeze into, packed it all up, and will be proudly (even if it’s a little snug) wearing it in Florida this week where I’m honored to be part of a distinguished panel of judges once again.

If you’ve ever been curious about what it’s like behind the scenes of the life of a pageant judge, I’ll be sharing some fun snapshots and clips on my Instagram @MrsKansasMommy throughout the week.

Going into this trip, knowing I’d be back in the realm of glam that is my happy place (none of my daughters are into pageants so it’s really just “Mommy’s hobby”) free from the day to day minutiae of school drop offs and volleyball practice and cleaning up after the dog, I was packing my suitcase and remembering what it feels like to be nervous about presenting yourself the best way you can, flaws, insecurities and all. It takes courage to stand on your own two feet and say, “Hey, hi nice to meet you! This is who I am…”

Whether you’ve followed me for years or are just discovering my blog today, I’ve always been a huge proponent of the National American Miss Pageant system. I started judging state pageants for the organization ten years ago when my first daughter was 1. Over the last decade, my life has been so enriched by these experiences, meeting bright-eyed young ladies and being a tiny part of helping them grow in confidence and poise, building their sense of self worth and life skills that will carry them on into adulthood.

I’m coming into this week with so much respect for every single member of every family here. They are showing their daughters they believe they are worthy of being seen, heard, and celebrated. As a mother of four daughters, it’s my opinion that all girls deserve to know that their value does not lie in the outcome of a competition, their worth cannot be judged, and comparison to others is the thief of joy. The only person worth comparing yourself to is the person you were yesterday. We are all improving on our own timelines. When one thinks of how pageants are typically portrayed, that may seem counterintuitive. But my experiences with NAM have been fulfilling and inspiring.

To my own daughters I would say, the real trophies and crowns in life are invisible. The only way to win them is to earn them by being brave, being kind, and willing to look silly. If it doesn’t go your way one day, find a reason to laugh, gather up the lessons you’ve earned like you’re on supermarket sweep, and leave the rest behind you with the trampled glitter on the stage. Hoard all those invisible trophies, girls. Hoard that confidence, because you earned it. Keep taking the kind of chances that make you more YOU.

*Very important disclaimer to anyone associated with a contestant: I will not be looking at social media beyond my own posts, so any attempts to message me are strictly forbidden and will be reported. In ten years, this has never been a problem thankfully! But this is a friendly reminder to keep it classy. I’ll be documenting the light, fun, behind the scenes moments that make this amazing thing I get to be part of with my fellow judges so meaningful to me. Professionalism and discretion are of paramount importance to the integrity of this amazing celebration of empowerment and promoting confidence. Every single one of these young ladies will be treated with the fairness and protection that I would expect for my own daughters. Thank you in advance for your understanding and respect.

Emily

@MrsKansasMommy

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Spare me, Liar. (Alternate title: I Whistle A Happy Tune.)

When one of my daughters was 9, as I was tucking her into bed she asked me, “How come you’re not afraid of anything?

I said, “What do you mean?”

She said, “Like, how come you’re not afraid of spiders?”

I told her that I’m not entirely sure, but I think it has something to do with the fact that as a child my best friend (and step-aunt – yes we have a weird family tree -) Marisa was really afraid of spiders and she was littler than me so I pretended not to be afraid, just to make her feel better when she had bad dreams. So I concluded that maybe I just tricked myself into not being afraid? Whether the fact that I’m not afraid of spiders is a result of that or just a coincidence, I guess I’ll never really be sure.

Coming full circle, this technique totally backfired when I tried not to pass along my lifelong phobia of snakes to my young daughters by going out of my way to say how “cute” and “fascinating” reptiles are when they were toddlers. This led to them shoving library books in my face and innocently exclaiming things like, “Look, Mommy! A picture of a snake! Your favorite!” Cut to me breaking out in the full meat sweats covered in hives. Just a simple picture in a children’s book would send me reeling, literally feeling the saliva drain from my mouth and the blood drain from my face as my entire back wet through my shirt and I started doing some weird panic version of heavy lamaze breathing. (Is lamaze breathing redundant? Would you still get the point if I had just said lamaze? Also remind me to someday publish my 600 page book of essays entitled, “Why I Can’t Go Back To That Library.” Spoiler alert: there’s more than one library.)

When the girls were older, we once got invited to a friend’s uncle’s farm in the country and it was like that horror scene from the National Lampoon’s Vacation movie where I looked over and saw my children playing with a F*CKING BUCKET of baby black snakes. You know…black snakes…the “harmless ones.” Harmless, that is, if you don’t have an automatic vomit trigger from fear and anxiety. I was too paralyzed to scream before I felt my knees start to waiver and my innards upheave, but I’m here to tell you ladies and gentleman, that I did not yell, puke, or faint, BECAUSE I’d been training for so long in case such a moment should arise. Poise-wise, it was my Jackie Kennedy at the funeral procession moment. Methinks I shall never summon a more courageous portrayal of “normal person doing fine” again; it was truly the performance (and bowel retention) of a lifetime.

That whole “fake it til you make it” thing is really misleading because it implies that if you fake it long enough you’ll eventually make it. In my experience this hasn’t always been the case. Marisa is still afraid of spiders, and yet I’m not, but I’m still afraid of snakes. (If you’re wondering how much appreciation she has for my sacrifices on her behalf, a couple of years ago she bought my kids souvenir cups at the Sedgwick Zoo in the shape of Boa Constrictors. She “swears” she thought they were “elephants.” OKAY, MARISA.)

Honest question: how many of you have intentionally lied to your kids about something you intensely fear/dislike to spare them the bad feelings you had to overcome?

Maybe the “making it” part of the old adage is that even if we couldn’t truly overcome our inner fears, at least we tried and hopefully didn’t pass our burdens onto our children unnecessarily. Then again, what if I’m just teaching my kids to be liars and telling myself it’s a means to an end of not having them absorb my fears? Also, how bad will I feel if one of them gets bitten by a snake?

 

Actual Things: Unmarried Dot Com

Dear friends,

I’ve had a cold so long I can barely remember what it’s like to not have a cold. As I was lying in bed last night still hacking after a second dose of Nyquil and some good old fashioned night soup*, I started to get really fed up. (*Night soup is that thing where you are so desperate to stop coughing you get up at 1am, make soup to eat in bed, spill some of it on yourself and then pray you don’t die of an accidental cold med overdose leaving your children to find your puffy-faced body in a bed full of used tissues in the morning.) I decided to refocus on tranquility by saying all my thank you prayers. Since I’ve been Catholic most of my life I have a habit of ending my prayers with the sign of the cross, only last night instead of the traditional “Amen” I realized I accidentally ended my prayer with, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and The Holy Spirit, Dot Com.”

“So there I was, wheeze-laughing in the dark in m’soup-stained tank top…“

This brings me to my second actual thing. I overslept. Which means my kids overslept. Which means we had approximately 9 minutes for a 12 minute drive. By some miracle of traffic patterns, we coasted up to the door with about 15 seconds to spare as I tossed backpacks into the backseat like they were life jackets on a sinking ship. As I watched my sweet blonde cherubs head for the front door I rolled down the window and started shouting things like, “LET’S MOVE! LOOK ALIVE! I WANNA SEE KNEES TO CHEST!” It really put a pep in their step and I’m thinking that maybe I should start wearing a coach whistle to drop off.

It’s a good thing I’m such a natural motivator because kids can be so inconsiderate, am I right? Like, I didn’t leave the house bra-less in a soup-stained tank top and accelerate through four yellow lights for you to mosey in 20 seconds after the bell and make me look like a bad mom.

Thirdly, and this is a biggie: I got unmarried a while ago. For months now I’ve mulled over when and how to share this information publicly, but the more I thought about it, the more all of your comments over the past years came flooding back and reminded me that I should just keep it real. It wasn’t in the plan for the original fairy tale ending, but I still got a lot of fairy tale moments over the years that can never be undone.

So I’m back to writing. As a single mom, I assure you I have a backlog of material to share with you. If you’re reading this, please know that I appreciate you. I hope you’ll forgive my absence and come back with all of your hilarious feedback I treasure so much.

And those are the actual things.

Love, Emily

 

Alternate Titles:

Working On My Night Soup

Accelerating Through Yellow Lights: A Philosophy For Life

Unmarried With Children

Fairy Tale Middles

I want to sneak in a HUGE thank you shout out to the many, many supportive women friends who have been true bright spots through this cloudy, unpredictable season of my life. Here are a few of them:

6 Easy Ways To Hide Your Inner Garbage Person

Ditch the ponytail/messy bun for a side bun. Spray your side part with dry shampoo, then pull all your hair loosely to one side, secure the non-bun side with a single bobby pin to keep from having fly-aways, and do the usual messy bun on the other side, just below your ear. Add dangly earrings. Quick. Chic. Wear it on a date. Wear it to work. Wear it to church. Go crazy.

Same amount of time and effort. Perfect for those of us in denial about our root situations.

 

 

Put self-tanner on your face, neck and chest. It’s fast, makes your skin look healthier, your teeth look whiter, and you can get dressed right away. My favorite.

 

Line your lips. This is a must for me, but I’ve noticed that a lot of my friends don’t bother with it. TRUST me. Lipliner is the new eyeliner. I buy the cheap ones in nude tones so I can keep one in my makeup drawer and one in my purse and they will work with any color lipstick or gloss (think Rimmel, Wet’n’Wild, etc.) Resist the temptation to buy the ones that don’t need sharpening. They’re convenient, but they don’t last nearly as long as the ones you have to sharpen.

 

That’s a scab in my nose from having to blow it so much due to allergies. But I love you so I’m keeping it real and posting what appears to be a picture of me with an enormous booger. Could I go back and crop it out? Yes. Do I have the time or energy for that? Nope.

 

 

Don’t rely on your workout clothes as a go-to if you’re not actually working out. It’s so tempting to put on yoga pants and a zip up when we’re feeling blah, but that’s actually when you should toss on your favorite jeans, a button down, and some booties. I own exactly two button downs. One is from Old Navy and one is from Forever 21,  both are older than my 2nd daughter.

 

Add a scarf. It makes you look instantly put together. Stella and Dot scarves are THEE best scarves ever. You can wear them tons of ways, including as a dress or pool cover up. True story, once I was wearing a beautiful silk white shirt with a scarf and I spilled red wine all over my white shirt so I just took it off in the bathroom and wrapped my scarf around me like a top. (This also allowed me to rinse the shirt before the stain set. Bonus.) Shop my favorites HERE and HERE. Wear them all year round. (Don’t forget you can always shop with me through http://www.StellaDot.com/emilykuhlman – DM me if you’d like my two cents!)

Rethink baseball caps. I have tons of them. You will most likely find me in my KC Royals cap. When I got it my bestie had blinged out the logo with crystals, but they fell off over the years so now it’s just my plain, perfectly-broken-in, goes-with-anything, covers-my-greasy-roots, makes-me-look-like-I-care-about-the-sports cap. *I prefer hair-down to ponytails. Efficient on windy days, and doesn’t require ANY hairstyling.

I urge you to resist the workout clothes and messy top-knots and tell me if it improves your day! There’s no need to feel frumpy just because you haven’t washed your hair in five days or gone shopping in five years. It might even boost your mood or score a compliment. Just know that no matter what you wear, you’ll always be the same beautiful garbage person in my eyes.

(You can find me on IG @MrsKansasMommy)

Lessons In Broken Toys: Just Go With It.

Today we came home from school to discover that Savannah’s (weird, trashy, but favorite) My Little Pony “Barbie” had been severely mauled by Mr. Biffles. Savannah was understandably horrified. (Bif lacked any signs of remorse.)

Hearing Savvy’s cries of shock and grief, Avery and I made quick work of a rescue mission. Avery got the silver duct tape while I performed CPR. I patched up the arms and leg while Avery applied the defibrillator (a Shopkin), as Savvy hesitantly looked on. Soon the doll was stabilized and the wailing subsided. Avery declared the doll “still beautiful.” I offered that her name could be “Ilene,” as she was now missing one foot. Savvy was unpersuaded.

KC Live: Halloween Goodies and Rubbing Elbows with a Royal (Like, for real.)

Today was another delightful day on the set of Kansas City Live!

The morning did not get off to a smooth start.

KC Live: That Time I Played In A Baby Pool In A Parking Lot.

This segment has everything: an overzealous bubble machine, a grown woman trying to talk and play with baby toys on live tv, Dan Cortez…

Actual Things: More Sh*t My Kids Say

Today I had to take Savvy(3) to the doctor with me to get my blood drawn. She watched curiously and asked lots of questions of the nurse. As we were walking to the car:

Savvy: “Mommy, is that nurse going to keep your blood?”

Me: “No, she’ll send it to a lab.”

Savvy *knowingly*: “Oh. Which one?”

Me: “…I have no idea…”

Savvy: “George?”

*This is George: the lab. He is NOT a licensed medical professional. Please do not let him convince you otherwise.

“GEORGE WASHINGTON DIED IN HIS OWN BED!”

I spend most hours of my life with my kids. And they like to run their mouths gab. Whenever they say something worth remembering, I use Facebook as a lazy-ass modern alternative to a traditional baby book so I can capture the moment, well, in the moment.

Here are some actual conversations I’ve captured with my children Avery (5) and Savvy (3) lately:

*Picking up the girls from school*
Me:”How was Teddy Bear day at preschool?”
Savvy: “Good. I saw a wiener.”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Savvy: “I just kidding!”
Me: “Why would you even tell Mommy that?!”
Savvy: “Wieners are so funny!”
*a beat of silence as I debate whether or not to admit I agree*
Avery *flinging the car door open whilst shouting like a doomsday prophet on a street corner): “GEORGE WASHINGTON DIED IN HIS OWN BED!”

Naturally the members of my family now enjoy shouting this out at random.

__

*Overheard*
Avery: “Savvy, if you don’t behave we’re going to sell you to the market for pork.”

__

Avery: “Do bunnies smell good?”
Me: “I don’t know, I’ve never smelled a bunny.”
Avery: “No. Like, do they have a good sense of smell? Why would you smell a bunny?”
Me: “I don’t know. I thought it was a strange question.”

__

*Savvy and I at McDonald’s, both wearing Ugg boots.*
Old lady with white hair (talking to Savvy): “What happened to your forehead??”

Savvy: “It’s a birthmark.”

Old lady with white hair (to Savvy): “I knew a little boy with one of those and they had to cut it off his face! Well you’re a pretty little girl anyway. I like your boots!” *looks at me* “Those Ugg boots only look good on children. And they are way too expensive.”

Savvy: “I had a grandma with white hair but she’s dead.”

Normally I call her out on all of her egregious lies, but I let this one slide.

__

*Our pomeranian Mr. Biffles nips Avery on the ankle.*
Avery (*shouting down at the puppy and gesticulating wildly): “I DON’T WANT TO BE COVERED IN BLOOD FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!”
Me: “He’s six pounds and his teeth are smaller than grains of rice. Settle down.”
Avery (completely calm): “I know. I was just warning him to make a point.”

__

Savvy: “Guess what my skin is made out of…”
Me: “What?”
Savvy: “Glorious meat.”

This has prompted me to start proclaiming things like, “THE GLORIOUS MEAT HAS RISEN. THE GLORIOUS MEAT DEMANDS WAFFLES.” My new goal in life is to write her wedding announcement for the newspaper with the line, “…and the bride wore glorious meat.”

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Me: “Where’s your little sister?”
Avery *casually*: “Oh, you know.”
Me: “No. I don’t know.”
Avery: “She’s in the family room relaxing in a giant turtle shell I made out of toys and trash.”

I took one fifteen minute shower, people

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My parents’ dog Annie died last year and since they live on a ranch in the country, they buried her in a corner of the yard and planted some lovely flowers. My mom walked the girls over to show them that they could come visit Annie’s grave whenever they missed her.

Avery: “So Annie’s actually in there?”

Mom (*delicately tiptoeing around discussion of the afterlife): “Well, yes, but her spirit isn’t there, it’s only her body.”

Avery: “Just her body?”

Mom: “Yes.”

Avery: “No head?”

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And last but not least, probably one of the darkest days in dog-shaming history:

 

 

Actual Things: Sprouts

Today I was offered a shoulder rub by a vagrant loitering outside of Sprouts.

I seriously considered it. I even thought what if it’s a trick and he does something sneaky like grabs my boob real quick; then I decided it would still be totally worth the risk for a good shoulder rub. Then I looked at his long scraggly beard and thought how a microscopic bug could easily jump out of it and onto my head and I’d get a free massage but also lice. As I assessed the risk I noticed it was time to pick up Avery from school, so my dilemma solved itself.