Some evenings present the typical parental dilemmas: Should we indulge in another serving of strawberry ice cream (we did), can we squeeze in one more round of Go Fish before bedtime (we managed), and will we read “King Bidgood’s in the Bathtub” or “Where the Wild Things Are” (we chose both).
Their hair was still damp from their showers, their eyelids heavy with sleep, when the sirens blared.
No. This is not a test. This is not a test. This is not a test.
Living in Israel means grappling with the reality of conflict; a terrorist organization is just an hour away, intent on undermining our existence and launching rockets at us for the past decade. In this country, everyone—Muslim, Christian, or Jew—faces the threat.
What’s astonishing is that just like I learned “STOP DROP AND ROLL” during earthquake drills as a child in Los Angeles, my children instinctively know how to respond when the sirens wail. They hurried to grab their flip flops near the door—thank goodness for affordable slip-on shoes. My daughter struggled a bit, so I scooped her up while my son and I dashed past the purple scarecrow they had built “to keep the rockets away, Mama, so they don’t hurt us when we sleep,” navigating the uneven terrain toward a public bomb shelter.
Yes, you heard that correctly. We have a public bomb shelter.
As do many others in Israel. Bomb shelters are a fundamental aspect of life here, along with air raid sirens and the Iron Dome system designed to intercept rockets before they reach civilians. As we sprinted toward safety, the ground began to tremble.
STOP. DROP. AND ROLL? No, we keep running until we reach safety.
“Red Alert, Red Alert,” my children sang. “Hurry hurry hurry because now it’s dangerous. Hurry hurry hurry, to a safe area.” While I grew up with nursery rhymes, my children know songs about escaping rocket attacks.
“Breathe deep, it’s ok to laugh!” they sang as we entered the shelter alongside other families.
The blast shook us, and my daughter let out a scream reminiscent of a horror movie, the kind that echoes when a monster emerges from the shadows. These rockets are our monsters, and they are aiming for us.
Inside the shelter, we found ways to cope. We munched on Pringles and sipped chocolate milk, played Go Fish with neighbors, and offered prayers.
In Judaism, there’s a saying: When things get tough, you first cry, then get angry, and finally, you laugh. With wide grins and hearts racing, we jumped straight to laughter as news came through that a rocket had landed just a five-minute walk from where we had been enjoying our ice cream moments earlier.
Honestly, laughter is often the only option. This is one of our other blog posts that further explores the complexities of parenting under extraordinary circumstances.
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In summary, living as a parent in Israel comes with unique challenges that require resilience and adaptability. Even amidst the chaos, finding moments of joy and connection with our loved ones remains paramount.