Not a Drill: Motherhood in Israel

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Updated: August 1, 2016
Originally Published: July 23, 2014

It was one of those evenings when the most pressing issues involved whether to have another helping of strawberry ice cream (we did), if we could squeeze in another game of Go Fish before bedtime (we could), and which story to read, King Bidgood’s in the Bathtub or Where the Wild Things Are (we chose both).

With their hair still damp from their showers and their eyelids growing heavy, the sirens suddenly pierced the night.

No. This is not a drill. This is not a drill. This is not a drill.

Living in Israel means that our lives are often intertwined with the realities of conflict; we are situated near a terrorist organization that has targeted our nation for over a decade. This threat looms over everyone in our country—Muslims, Christians, and Jews alike.

It’s astonishing how, just as I learned to “STOP, DROP, AND ROLL” during earthquake drills as a child in California, my children instinctively know what to do when the sirens blare. They dashed for their flip-flops by the door—thank goodness for those inexpensive slip-ons! My daughter struggled with hers, so I scooped her up while my son and I hurried from our home, past the whimsical purple scarecrow they had crafted “to keep the rockets away, Mama,” and across the rough terrain to the public bomb shelter.

Seriously, can we take a moment? We have a public bomb shelter.

Like everyone else in Israel, we have access to bomb shelters. Air raid sirens, the Iron Dome—a system designed to intercept incoming rockets—bomb shelters, and fortified rooms are integral parts of life here. Just as we approached the shelter, the ground shook beneath us.

STOP. DROP. AND ROLL? No, we needed to keep running until we were safely inside.

“Red Alert, Red Alert!” my children sang. “Hurry, hurry, hurry because it’s dangerous! Hurry, hurry, hurry to a safe area.”

While I grew up singing about “The Wheels on the Bus,” my kids are learning songs about what to do during a rocket attack.

“Breathe deep, it’s ok to laugh!” they chimed as we entered the shelter alongside other families.

We felt the thud of the blast, and my daughter let out a scream that resembled the horror movie shrieks you hear when the monster emerges—because these rockets are indeed our monsters, seeking to strike fear into our lives.

Inside the shelter, what could we do? We munched on Pringles and chocolate milk, played Go Fish with our neighbors, and took a moment to pray.

In Judaism, there’s a saying: When life gets intense, first you cry, then you get angry, and finally, you laugh. With mouths wide open and smiles bright, we laughed even as we processed the chaos around us.

As news spread through WhatsApp that a rocket had landed just a short walk from where we had been enjoying our ice cream moments before, we bypassed the tears and anger and went straight to laughter.

Really, in times like these, what other choice do we have?

This article originally appeared on July 23, 2014.

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Summary:

This piece reflects on the challenges of motherhood in Israel amid ongoing conflict. It illustrates the surreal contrast between everyday family moments and the harsh reality of living in a war zone. The narrative emphasizes resilience, humor, and the unique ways families adapt to their circumstances, highlighting a mother’s experience as she navigates safety with her children.


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