Help me understand Ugandan children raised in America - I have two

I have the bad habit of checking my phone every few seconds; at the dinner table, between mouthfuls, in the living room, during family banter...

I check my phone - anxious to receive an imaginary email, text message or stumble on the news of a life time on social media. My son throws me daggers and I can almost hear the words boiling in his head.

Sometimes I eat while standing in the kitchen and sermon my little girl to her seat when she roams the house with a snack in her hand.

When it's time to head out with the family I sound the alarm "It's time to go - put on your shoes and get to the car". Then I remember I didn't close the curtain or get the book I had planned to carry, so I rush back in.
My little girl insists the humidifier should be plugged in her room because she senses a cold coming on (it's been "coming" for a while now). To reduce the incessant requests I tell her yeah I will do it tomorrow and never get round to it until she pulls it out herself and tells me - "now mummy!"

At times, I'm exhausted, tidying up after little people have run all over the place and dropped stuff makes me weak in the knees, so I ignore the mess. The problem is sometimes, I ignore the mess for far too long - there is so much to do over the weekend; shop, cook, do laundry, attempt to sleep... I create enough space for the plates to fit on the table never mind the homework and art crafts that have piled all week long.  Then I'm hit with a sudden fever when friends hint on a desire to visit.

Kids develop a familiarity with their parents over here. We are a community of four mingling in each others space. We get a break with school and work, and the Ugandan fellowship once a month but our safe place - the place where we are most ourselves is in the community of four (Mom, Dad, and 2 kids).  I get upset in front of the kids. I make mistakes. They hear about my struggles. After a while mom is just another human being - she is not magical. When I approach my son with instructions I'm always shocked when he responds with peer attitude. Where is the respect? I wonder. How dare he respond to me that way? Then it hits me; we are in each others space all the time. He sees my excellent points and my weaknesses, he knows my passions and what upsets me.

What happened to the days when we worshiped the ground on which our parents walked? I remember the fear that gripped me the moment my dad returned home. "Welcome back Daddy!" We run to pick his briefcase, get him a glass of water and so on. Mom was approachable but  we never took her for granted. Here, you know where the kitchen is, yeah we've all had a hard day so get with the program. "Why should I be the one to get you water?" "But so and so is right there, why don't you ask them to do it". So I go and get the water myself.
Perhaps because we spent more time with uncles, aunts, helpers, neighbors and everybody else - the parent was honored. Perhaps there was more respect because we didn't spend each waking moment together and thus were not exposed to their quirks. Play time was reserved for age mates. 

When my little girl calls me her best friend and insists that we color together - I love it! But I suspect that as she grows older she may arrive at my 10 year old son's base where he is upset that I didn't consult him about weekend plans. "What?! You invited visitors? Why didn't you tell me? Next time I will also invite my friends over without letting you know". I look at him and wonder when the need to consult crept onto the scene. On the inside I wonder"who is this boy?" There is a constant battle of cultures: the one I was raised in and try to impart and the one he lives in. I was raised to respect and honor, he believes every opportunity is presented so he can assert himself. God please help me understand children raised in America - I have two in this house and they leave this Ugandan mama speechless".