See, if your husband is running for President, we as the American people would like to hear you speak. Open your mouth from time to time, tell us you care about health care or poverty or orphans in Africa. It really doesn’t matter what the topic is - it just matters that you have something quasi-intelligent to say. And, oh yeah, it has to be the truth.

Cindy McCain has decided to open her pink lipsticked mouth, but unfortunately what she has to say is neither intelligent nor the truth. (Go figure.) In retelling stories of her childhood, Cindy McCain has said that she was an “only child.” Enter Kathleen Hensley Portalski, daughter to Jim Hensley, aka Cindy McCain’s father.

You see, Cindy (whose middle name, by the way, is Lou. Quite amusing that she shares her name with a main character in ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’), when you share the same father with someone, that makes you siblings.

Jim Hensley was married to Mary Jeanne Hensley in 1943, the year their daughter Kathleen was born. However, when Jim was injured during WW II, he was sent to recuperate in West Virginia where he met another woman, Marguerite Smith. In 1945, he divorced Mary Jeanne to marry Marguerite, and nine years later, Cindy Lou (Hoo) was born. Does this story sound ironically familiar to anyone else? Talk about a Freudian analysis!

Cindy McCain knew her half-sister, Kathleen, with whom she reportedly spent some holidays growing up. Kathleen Hensley Portalski says she is upset and feels like “a non-person” by her sister’s continual assertion that she is an only child.

Kathleen has stated that she would like acknowledgement or an apology. When NPR asked the McCain campaign to respond or comment, no reply was received.

Idiots, idiots, idiots.

Now compare Cindy Lou (Hoo) McCain with Michelle Obama, who is bright, articulate and a graduate of Princeton University and Harvard Law School. (Also, Michelle is not a liar.) Do we really want to elect a leader who would choose debatably attractive, fib-telling arm candy as his life partner over someone who can challenge and expand his thinking? Really, America?

A few weeks ago, I finally decided that it was time to splurge on a new wallet. As impressive as I’m sure my clients find my financial responsibility, something about me pulling out a tattered, canvas wallet with dangling zipper enclosures during business lunches just doesn’t instill the confidence and professionalism they’re after.

Luckily, I found a shop in Seattle that makes handmade, custom wallets. The shop is called Laura Bee Designs and they take orders both in person and online. And they’re cheap, too! I ordered a full-size, custom wallet for $26. The quality is decent, not amazing, but the styles are really cute. They also make handbags, too - depending on how my wallet wears, I may be going back there a lot!

Today, Gavin was having his usual Mommy-don’t-go meltdown as I tried to drop him off at daycare. Hiding behind my legs, trying to climb into my lap (while I was standing, no less), and explaining in every way his two-year old vocabulary would permit that he very much did not want to be there. Finally, I made a deal with him - I would walk him from the gym back to his classroom and he could hold my hand the entire way. This seemed to quell his apprehension sufficiently and the billowing sobs lessened into soft tears.

Just then, Gavin’s good friend, Jack, ran up. “Can I hold hands, too?” he asked, grabbing my other hand.

“Of course,” I started to say but was interrupted by Gavin wedging himself in between me and his companion, a ferocious look washing over his face. The tears stopped in their tracks and whimpering cries were replaced with clenched teeth.

Gavin ripped Jack’s hand out of mine and moved in close. “No,” he said very seriously. “It’s MY Mommy.”

Jack looked at me pitifully. “Can I hold hands?” he asked again.

With his message not sinking in, Gavin wasted no time. He used his entire body to block Jack from getting anywhere near me. “No, no! It’s MY Mommy! MY Mommy!” I had to pull Gavin away from Jack for fear he would knock the poor child over. Despite Gavin being younger, he is a good head taller.

Finally, Jack lost interest in holding my hand, and Gavin willing rejoined his class in line. “Bye, Mommy,” he said, waving me off with a knowing grin. “Have a good day!”

You see, I’ve been horribly nauseous for the past two days, unable to eat any food and unable to work. I’m pretty sure I have a lovely stomach bug (thank you, daycare toddlers) that for some inhumane and ungodly reason, refuses to be purged from my system.

Of course, as soon as I mention the fact that I am nauseous to my family, they immediately suspect I am pregnant. I don’t even have the words to describe how annoying this is - especially since they won’t come right out and ask me. Rather, they less than subtly dance around the topic.

“Is anyone else at work sick?” my grandmother asked last night on the phone.

“No,” I said.

Silence.

“Is Gavin sick?”

“No,” I said again.

“Well, that’s odd. Usually someone else is sick with the same thing, too.” Pause. “You don’t know what this could be? No idea?”

“No.”

My grandmother has proceeded to call me four times in the past two days to see how I am feeling. Now, I know that she loves me and is legitimately concerned about me, but I promise you that she would not have quite as great an interest if, say, I had bad headaches or cold symptoms.

While I am still nauseous - and boy, is it fun parenting a toddler in this state! - I am most definitely NOT pregnant.

I adored this cadre of cuteness during the 2004 Summer Games and was thrilled to realize that the 2008 Beijing Olympics would bring with it at least one very, very good thing: swimmers in speedos.

I’ve been watching the swimming competition intently these past two days, which has left my ex flabbergasted. “I thought you weren’t interested in the Olympics,” he said. “And I never realized you liked swimming so much!”

Really, with the fine exhibits below, how can you not be interested? I wish technology made it possible to reach through the screen and actually touch what you were looking at.

Edwards said that he was, in fact, having an affair with Hunter, but that the child cannot be his due to timing. However, Edwards has not consented to taking a paternity test. If the baby wasn’t his, don’t you think he’d be quick to take the test and prove it? It’s clearly his child. He also said that he did visit Hunter and her baby at the Beverly Hilton in July. Again, if it’s not his baby and the affair is over, why is he visiting them?

Edwards will respond to the scandal during a Nightline interview tonight.

The whole thing is just so sad, especially considering that his wife, who campaigned hard for her husband, is dying of cancer. My bet is that he won’t admit to fathering the baby while Elizabeth is alive so as not to cause her more pain - not that he seemed real concerned about preventing her pain before.

Though, dare I ask - if you’re running for President and having an affair, wouldn’t you use protection?

Shocking. Sad. I’m sorry to see that this appears to be one story the National Enquirer got right.

The National Enquirer first broke the story (or perhaps “story”). The claim is that Edwards was having an affair with Hunter who gave birth to a baby girl named Frances on February 27, 2008. No father was listed on the baby girl’s birth certificate and many have said that Edwards is the father. Then, in July, Edwards was caught leaving the Beverly Hilton where he was allegedly visiting Rielle and the baby.

Andrew Young, an Edwards campaign aide, came forward claiming to be the child’s father, but many suspect this to be a cover-up. Interestingly, Young’s name has not been added to the birth certificate.

So what’s the truth? The main stream media has all but avoided the topic completely and the only sources that seem to be covering it are right-wing publications (and, of course, Gawker). Is it because the convention and the election are coming up and Democrats don’t want to hurt their party’s image? Is it because they don’t want to cause harm to Elizabeth, Edwards’ terminally ill wife? Or is it because the story, is in fact, not true?

At any rate, something strange is up and, as a former adorer of Edwards’, I will sadly follow the developments.

I always knew the day would come when my precocious little offspring would surpass me in intellect. I guess I just envisioned it happening closer to age 18 rather than at age 2. (Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m proud as hell that my son is quite bright. The problem is that I am really, really competitive and I don’t like being wrong.)

An example from earlier this week:

Gavin: Mommy, what do whales eat?

Me: I don’t know, fish I suppose.

Gavin (laughing like I made a joke): No, Mommy! Whales don’t eat fish.

Me: Well, then what do they eat?

Gavin: Plankton!

What I wanted to say was, “Oh yeah, I knew that.” Of course, what I actually said was, “Plankton! Of course! How silly of Mommy.”

A little while later, once Gavin was happily distracted by some toy trains, I did a Google search for “what do whales eat” and discovered, thanks to that venerable source of information, Wikipedia, that most whales eat plankton while some do, in fact, eat fish.

“Gavin!” I shouted. “They do eat fish! Some whales do eat fish!”

Gavin looked at me, dumbfounded, before breaking into hysterical giggles. “Mommy is funny!”

What I wanted to say was, “I’m not funny, Gavin. I’m right!” What I did say was nothing and went into the kitchen to make dinner.

I guess you can’t win ‘em all. Though I did bookmark the page, just in case the topic comes up again…

Anyway, in honor of the upcoming Games, I’m taking a quick poll. Which do you think is worse - that China is erecting statues that are near replicas of American icon, Mickey Mouse, and then vehemently denying that they are supposed to look like Mickey…

…or the fact that they choose the freakshows below as their official mascots (for those that don’t know, they’re called “Fuwas”)

It took months for my Ex and I to agree on “Gavin” for our son. We were naming him after two Geralds, one on each side of the family. I wanted to use the first letter ‘G’ to honor them, while my Ex wanted to literally call our son Gerald. Not being particularly fond of the name, I objected and - thankfully - won. Hence, Gavin was born.

5 Tips for selecting the perfect name for your baby:

1. Don’t Get Too Crazy.What may be funny / unique / cutesy to you, may be sheer torture for your child. You can’t predict what your child will be like, but odds are, he/she won’t enjoy being named “Apple” or “Pilot Inspektor.”
2. Consider Connotations and Whether the Name Will Age. This is especially important if your baby is a girl. Ideally, the name should set your child up for success - or, at the very least, not impede it. Don’t substitute an ‘I’ for names that normally end in ‘y.’ For example, “Stacy” shouldn’t be spelled as “Staci.” While it may be adorable for a little girl, how cute will it be when she is trying to launch her career to run for office?
3. Look at the Entire Name. Some first and last names simply don’t work together. “Indiana” might a nice name for a daughter, but not if your last name is “Jones.” (Though, to be perfectly honest, I don’t condone naming children after states or cities.) Listen to the way that the name sounds altogether. Is it difficult to pronounce? Does it flow?
4. Popularity is Your Friend… While no one wants to have the seventh “Jack” or “Olivia” in the kindergarten class, selecting a name that is currently in the Top 50 may serve your child well. Even if popular names eventually go out of style, you can ensure that your child’s name will never be out of style with his/her peers.
5. …But Avoid the Top 5. As much as I love the name Jack, I’m glad I didn’t use it for my son. He already refers to the three Jacks in his class of ten children with their last initial. There’s “Jack S,” “Jack B,” and “Jack R.” Confusing and redundant!

Happy choosing!