Emma Waverman writes about the chaos of modern family life in the kitchen and out of it. She has a weekly food column on CBC Radio One, Here & Now. She is the co-author of the family cookbook Whining and Dining: Mealtime Survival for Picky Eaters and Families Who Love Them and is hoping to one day finish her certification as a parenting coach. She lives with her three kids, ranging from tween to university student, and husband in Toronto. Emma has written for a variety of national lifestyle magazines and newspapers. When she's is not making typos, telling you what she thinks, and thinking about dinner, you can find her on Twitter at @emmawaverman and Instagram. You can contact Emma at embracingchaos@hotmail.ca.

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Shhh...Mummy can't talk

I have lost my voice. I can barely talk above a whisper, and it is surprisingly effective. I think I have found a whole new parenting technique. The quieter I talk, the quieter the kids speak to me too.

My kids are little freaked out about the whole thing. My son said to me: "It feels like my ears are broken when I hear you talk."

It's like the whole house is speaking in whispers. It's quite amazing the effect whispering has on people. I guess its the opposite of when someone speaks loudly, and you raise your voice to match them. When someone is whispering to you, its just feels a little awkward to speak loudly back.

Maybe this is payback for my post on yelling. Maybe this my own personal form of swine flu, a painful throat, cough and lack of voice. Of course, that is a little unfair, because swine flu around here is also known as whine flu. And I can't whine, in fact I am still able to function on a somewhat-minimized level. I just have to choose my words carefully, kind of like verbal Twitter.

And I should tread carefully here because I don't want to start the whole man cold thing again. But let's be honest when mommy is sick life goes on. It's not like my hubby is wiping my brow and calling me "poor little bunny".

I could try and be a better person and say that when my voice returns I will have learned my lesson; speak softly and I will expect the kids to speak quietly in return. But we all know that won't happen...

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My Pretend Boyfriends/Babysitters

A full week of having a sick three-year old has re-acquainted me with preschooler shows. I have fallen in love all over again with the innocence, the music and the totally naïve and useless lessons they try and teach.

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Do You Eat Your Young?

The other day, I was so mad at my oldest son for something or other (who can keep track?) I yelled: “I am not going to say anything else, in case I say something I regret.” He looked at me and said, “What could you say to me that you would regret?” And it stopped me dead. What could I possibly say to one of the people that I love most in the world that I would regret later? And suddenly the heated moment was gone.

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Three Labours, Three Ways

I have this irrational theory (it’s not my only one) that my kids’ personalities were somehow evident by their birth. My husband thinks this is actually crazy, but I'm right.

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We Are Now Puppets in the Shadow Government

On Friday, I marched my two boys down to my pediatrician's office and got them the vaccine and I did it without a moment of doubt. And you know what? I did it because I trust my pediatrician and I trust Mt. Sinai's Dr. Donald Low, whom I have never met but whenever I see him on TV gives me a sense of calm, and stops my head from exploding due to panic.

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