I opened them and yelled back, “Yeah, kiddo! Hang tight, I’ll get this chicken in and help!”

“I will too!” Pippa said after me.

My throat felt thick, I could feel the tears gathering behind my eyes and that was when I stood there and fought that.

It was a fight I had to win because I had to get the chicken in the oven, clean my hands and help my son move his bed in his room to where he wanted it to be.

I focused on doing the first parts, and after the chicken was in and my hands were cleaned, I walked toward my children’s rooms, calling, “We get this bed moved, you know the drill! Homework done first thing so you don’t have to worry about it all weekend!”

“But there’s something I wanna watch on TV tonight!” Pippa called back.

I was in her door when she finished. “So watch it with your books in front of you.”

“Whatever,” she muttered, but she did it good-naturedly.

“Come help me with your brother’s bed.”

She nodded, tossed her phone on her comforter and I moved out of her doorway toward Auden’s room, thrilled with the knowledge that my baby girl was following me.

* * * * *

“Mom, you’ve got nothing in your scheduled recordings,” Auden announced after dinner that evening.

He was lounged on the couch across from where I was lounged in my fabulous armchair. He had the remote up and pointed at the TV.

“I don’t watch that much TV, kid,” I reminded him.

He looked back to the TV and started pressing buttons. “You got HBO. Showtime. Cinemax. Jeez, you got the premium package.” His eyes returned to me. “You don’t even wanna record movies?”

I’d been so busy, except with Mickey and his kids and when I had my kids, I hadn’t thought about movies.

“That’s a good idea,” I murmured.

“Hey!” Pippa snapped, bouncing into the room, coming from whatever she’d been doing in her bedroom (hopefully her homework), her gaze aimed at the television. “Don’t use up all the DVR space. I get half.”

“You get a third, Pip. Mom’s gonna start recording movies.”

“Whatever, Auden. I get a third so don’t use it all up,” she returned, throwing herself on the couch and kicking at his legs unnecessarily to make room for herself when there was already plenty.

“Don’t be a douche,” Auden bit out, moving his legs back to where they were before Pippa kicked them.

“Just ’cause you’re taller than me doesn’t mean you get the whole couch, Auden,” she retorted.

“Actually,” I put in, “it kinda does.” Both kids looked at me, but I looked to Pippa. “You don’t need that much room, sweets. The couch is long, you have plenty. Share with your brother, baby.”