Updated: Aug. 1, 2016
Originally Published: July 23, 2014
It was one of those nights where the greatest dilemma was whether to indulge in another scoop of strawberry ice cream (we did), if we had enough time for one last round of Go Fish before bedtime (we managed), and which story to read, King Bidgood’s in the Bathtub or Where the Wild Things Are (we chose both).
Their hair was still damp from the shower, their eyelids beginning to droop when suddenly the siren blared.
No. This is not a drill. This is not a drill. This is not a drill.
We live in Israel, where our nation is embroiled in conflict with a terrorist group just a short drive away, one that has spent the last decade launching rockets at us. Anyone residing here—Muslim, Christian, or Jew—is a target.
What’s astonishing is that, just as I learned to STOP DROP AND ROLL back in Los Angeles, my children instinctively knew how to react when the sirens pierced the night. They dashed to grab their flip-flops lined up by the door—thank goodness for affordable slip-ons. My daughter struggled with her shoes, so I scooped her up while my son and I raced away from our home, past the purple scarecrow my kids had constructed “to keep the rockets away, Mama, so they don’t hurt us when we sleep,” across uneven terrain to a public bomb shelter.
Um, can I just say, what on earth? We actually have a public bomb shelter.
Like everyone else in Israel, bomb shelters are ubiquitous across the country. Air raid sirens, the Iron Dome designed to intercept rockets before they can strike families like ours, bomb shelters, and safe rooms have become part of our everyday reality. And thank goodness for that, because just before we reached safety, the ground began to shake.
STOP. DROP. AND ROLL? No, keep running until we’re safely inside.
“Red Alert, Red Alert,” my children sang. “Hurry hurry hurry because now it’s dangerous. Hurry hurry hurry to a safe area.” So while I grew up singing “The Wheels on the Bus go Round and Round,” my kids now know a song about what to do during a rocket attack.
“Breathe deep, it’s ok to laugh!” they chanted as we entered the shelter, joining other families. We braced ourselves as a blast rocked the building, and my daughter let out a scream reminiscent of a horror movie, the kind you hear when the monster emerges from under the bed—because these rockets are our true monsters, aiming to strike us directly.
Once inside the shelter, what could we do? We munched on Pringles and sipped chocolate milk. We played Go Fish with our neighbors and prayed.
In Judaism, there’s a saying: When things get intense, you first cry, then get angry, and finally, you laugh. With our mouths wide open and smiles as bright as can be, we laughed even as our bodies trembled.
And as the news buzzed through WhatsApp that a rocket had landed just a five-minute walk from where we had been enjoying our ice cream mere moments earlier, we skipped tears and anger, going straight to laughter.
Honestly, what other choice do we have?
This article was originally published on July 23, 2014. For more insights, check out other posts like this one related to home insemination kits for parents-to-be.
In summary, living in Israel means navigating the complexities of motherhood amid ongoing conflict. The balance of joyful moments with children and the harsh realities of life under threat creates a unique parenting experience. By embracing humor and resilience, families find ways to cope with the challenges they face.