TRIBAL WARNINGS

I remember when my kids were little and I had to get up in the middle of the night. I'd try to change them with one eye open, hoping I didn't stab them with the safety pin. That was before the days of disposable diapers with self-fastening tabs.

I would walk the floor or try to sing or anything just to get the kid back to sleep, all the while wishing my life would return to normal. Or at least my sleep.
You know, like going to bed when I felt like it and sleeping all night. Little did I know that I would never see "normal" again.

When they were little, I could put them in bed for a nap and I usually took one too.
Now, when I try to take a nap, it sounds like drums from a distant tribe, trying to warm someone. The tribal sounds come from their rooms, or from their cars.
The warnings can be heard from roughly two miles away.
When I needed to sew, or iron, I could stick them in a playpen to keep them entertained.
Now it costs anywhere from $50 to $100 to entertain them. And that doesn't include the cost of feeding them.
I used to be able to make faces at them to make them laugh. Now all I have to do is say, "I thought you were going to do the dishes?"
I remember being disgusted when my son spit peas on me. He used to dump everything on floor. He loved to throw mashed potatoes against the wall.
It used to be quite an ordeal moving his high chair to the middle of the room and only giving him one thing at a time.
My life hasn't really changed a whole lot over the past 20 years. I still wake up in the middle of the night and check to make sure they are safely in their bed. I don't have to change diapers or feed them in the middle of the night.
I think some of the tribal drums might have impaired their hearing though, because just this morning I shouted, "Who wants to help me work in the garden?" and nobody heard me.