You have just captured my whole life in your poem it seems. My mother made chicken and noodles every week or two throughout my childhood and all through adulthood, too. I lived with her during her last few years and as her strength faded, I picked up the standard and started to do the heavy chores, which included cooking. She would sit on a stool and instruct me on the proper procedure for preparing her tried and true family favorites. It's funny though, as much attention as I paid to getting it right, my noodles are not quite as tender... but they nevertheless bring a tear to my eye. We always had them over mashed potatoes as well lol. Must be a midwest thing! Have a great weekend!