It was one of those delightful evenings where the biggest dilemmas were whether to indulge in seconds of strawberry ice cream (yes, please!), if we could squeeze in one more round of Go Fish before bedtime (we could), and which story to read first—King Bidgood’s in the Bathtub or Where the Wild Things Are (we ended up reading both!). My kids’ hair was still damp from their showers, their eyelids growing heavy, when suddenly, the siren pierced the air.
No, this is not a drill. This is not a drill. This is not a drill.
We live in Israel, a place currently embroiled in conflict with a terrorist group just a short drive away, one that has been launching rockets at us for the past decade. Anyone here—Muslim, Christian, or Jew—could be in the line of fire.
Isn’t it wild? Just as I learned “Stop, Drop, and Roll” back in earthquake-prone LA, my children instinctively know how to react when the sirens wail. They rushed to their flip-flops by the door—thank goodness for those affordable slip-on shoes! My daughter struggled a bit, so I scooped her up while my son and I darted out, past the purple scarecrow they had built “to scare the rockets away, Mama, so we can sleep safely,” and over the rocky terrain to the nearest public bomb shelter.
Honestly, can I get a “What the heck?” We have a public bomb shelter. Just like everyone else in Israel, bomb shelters are a common fixture here. Air raid sirens, the Iron Dome (which intercepts incoming rockets), bomb shelters, and safe rooms are just part of life. And thank goodness for that defense system—right before we reached shelter, the ground shook beneath us.
STOP. DROP. AND ROLL? No, just keep running until we’re safe inside.
“Red Alert, Red Alert,” my kids sang, “Hurry, hurry, hurry because now it’s dangerous. Hurry, hurry, hurry, to a safe area!” While I grew up humming “The Wheels on the Bus,” my kids belt out tunes about what to do during a rocket attack.
“Breathe deep, it’s okay to laugh!” they chorused as we finally arrived inside the shelter, joining several other families. We felt the blast rattle the walls, and my daughter screamed—a chilling shriek reminiscent of horror flicks, the kind that sends shivers down your spine because these rockets are our real-life monsters.
Inside the shelter, what else could we do? We munched on Pringles and sipped chocolate milk, played Go Fish with our neighbors, and prayed. In Judaism, there’s a saying: When things get tough, first you cry, then you get mad, and finally, you laugh—wide smiles and all. As news spread through WhatsApp that a rocket had landed just a five-minute stroll from where we were indulging in strawberry ice cream only moments earlier, we skipped straight to laughter, completely bypassing the tears and anger.
Honestly, what other choice do we have?
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Summary:
This article reflects on the challenges of motherhood in Israel amidst ongoing conflict, showcasing the resilience of families who must navigate life with the constant threat of danger. Through humor and community, families find ways to cope and maintain a sense of normalcy even in the face of adversity.