Michal Lashansky
Michal Lashansky
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Rockets are flying, and we’re supposed to carry on as usual?!

What if the siren sounds while my 10-year-old is outside by herself? I think I'll pick her up today...
(Pikud HaOref)
(Pikud HaOref)

Monday

18:08 – Look at my phone, see 5 missed calls from my husband and realize it’s been on silent – what could be so urgent?

18:09 – Call husband who tells me about rocket attacks close by and suggests getting the safe room (ממ״ד) ready.

18:11 – Go to the safe room and use all my strength to close the iron door and feel relieved when it’s finally closed and I didn’t have to do it in the heat of the moment because it is damn heavy…

18:13 – Ward off kids’ questions about why I’m getting the safe room ready (and hoping to God it will just pass and I won’t have to explain that once again bad people are attacking us with rockets).

18:15 – Get ready for a long awaited (post-COVID) night out on the town with friends — and discuss in our WhatsApp group whether or not we should still go (Decision: We’re not letting Hamas ruin our evening).

18:39 – Contact friends in Jerusalem to see how they coped when the sirens went off and hear from one friend that the safe room in her building was locked (!?).

18:42 – Watch the news to get some updates and see what we’re in for…

18:47 – Drive and go out for dinner, all the while glancing around to see where the safest place would be to go if the siren sounded

20:49 – Get worried text from a friend about Jihad threats — slightly panicky

20:58 – Message my husband who took kids out for dinner to ask how it was. Tells me that when he asked why a concert at the shopping center where they were eating was cancelled, the answer was because of the rocket attacks. And the kids overheard. So now they know…

21:10 – Before the show begins, a guy comes on stage and announces to the crowded hall that if there’s a siren we should all stay in our seats. Comedian starts the show with, “Well, that’s reassuring.” Thank God for comedy — for the next hour and a half we try not to think about the reality outside.

22:30 – Drive home, listen to the news, check phone — see that the gan (kindergarten) and school sent a message about how to talk to the kids about rocket attacks (too late…), and that, in our area, tomorrow will be a routine day (with the exception of practicing getting to safety in the event of a rocket attack). Routine.

23:00 – Get home, debrief with hubby

00:00 – Can’t fall asleep — watch more news and then watch crappy videos on FB to try and distract myself.

00:30 – Turn off phone and go to sleep.

Tuesday

06:15 – Wake up, check the news straight away, more rockets, not looking great.

06:35 – Get kids ready for school. Speak to them about the situation and remind them what to do in case of attack. Proud of them for remembering what to do (wish they didn’t have to), and hope to God they don’t have to use this knowledge…

06:45 – Hubby comes home from run and looks at Tzeva Adom app on his phone. “In the time I’ve been running, there have been 100 rockets fired.”

07:00 – Pray with special intent on the blessing for peace.

07:30 – Take kids to gan and school, trying to keep regular routine and stay upbeat. Tell 10-year-old daughter I’ll be picking her up today because I’m working from home (do NOT tell her it’s also because I am petrified of the siren sounding when she’s stuck outside by herself).

08:00 – Before going on a walk, make sure to turn off noise-cancelling on my headphones so I can hear if a siren wails.

09:00 – Come back home, shower, think about how much time I’d have to get to the safe room if a siren sounds now.

09:30 – Write down this journal. I can’t start work until I’ve processed everything. I want to write this all down firstly for myself — its cathartic. But also to tell people outside of Israel what routine looks like when we’re being barraged by rockets.

Hoping and praying my routine can go back to being boring and normal — something that no one will be interested in reading.

Praying for our soldiers in the IDF and fellow Israelis in the South.

Praying for peace.

About the Author
Michal Lashansky is an educator from Down Under who now calls Modi'in home. She holds a BA in Jewish Studies from Monash University and an MA in Tanakh from Bar Ilan (and Matan). Michal is currently training as a Kallah teacher.
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