I’m apparently making things sound, as a friend of mine living here put it, “far too much fun.” So, for those who had the impression that we spend our time laughing our heads off to and from the sealed room… um, not quite

Monday, July 07, 2014

Hi, friends and family!

Here are the latest updates from the latest warzone:

Hamas have decided they may as well provide Ashdod with wake-up services free of charge — yesterday we were woken up at 6, today at 6:35. (If I could get through to them, I’d tell them we don’t need to get up so early, the kids are anyway off school — wonder why?)

Everyone has been home for a week now. We are all physically healthy — although I won’t say mentally intact.

Baruch Hashem, no one is traumatized from the actual sirens, but it can be really annoying to be in your kitchen trying to wash your Shabbos dishes, and every time you get your hands soapy, the siren goes off again… (Yesterday evening we had sirens at 8:05, 8:10, and 8:15. So don’t ask why I was busy with Shabbos dishes on Sunday evening!)

On a serious note, we need your tefillos — daven that this ends soon with no more injuries or loss of life.

Besoros tovos,
Rachel

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Hi, friends!!

Latest reports…

Hamas apparently reads my e-mails — we did not have any early wake-up calls.

Actually, we were convinced that they had given up on us altogether, as there was silence from 5 yesterday evening until 11:20 a.m. Then they threw eight at us just for fun.

I have discovered the formula for coping:

E-mails and calls from friends and fam + Choc, cake, and ice cream + Healthy dose of humor = something resembling a human being.

Please note — the first and last components of the formula are calorie-free.

Funniest scenario:
Decorating an ice cream pie with melted chocolate for a neighbor who just gave birth. Siren goes, blob of chocolate spurts out of the piping bag. Tried to remove it after coming back out of the shelter, but it had hardened onto the frozen ice cream… knocked on the neighbor’s door to deliver the ice cream pie and explained that it was made by me but decorated by… Hamas.

Today I actually experienced my nightmare… and lived to tell the tale, baruch Hashem!

At the moment Tova has a half-day program in her special-needs framework, so I take a taxi there and back with another mother and her kid. From the taxi till the entrance, it’s a three-minute walk in a totally open area. The siren went off last Thursday as we were getting out of the taxi to pick up the kids, so we ran and huffed and puffed and got there in time. And panted with relief that the kids weren’t with us…

Today, you guessed it…

9:26 this morning: yours truly preparing to get out of the taxi when the driver says, “Don’t get a shock, that’s the siren.” Grabbed Tova (all 45 pounds of her) and started running in the sand and stones. She was giggling her head off, thought it was some sort of a joy ride… and slipping down my body so I almost tripped over her dangling legs (she is 8½). I was gasping by the time I got to the entrance — and the siren had already stopped (45 seconds is not that long). Thankfully, the security guard saw me struggling and ran to help me shlep Tova inside the building. (For some reason he stays outside to watch the fireworks.)

So how does it feel to live out your nightmare? Once my heart rate returned to normal (about two hours), and my legs stopped shaking (bit longer) I realized I’m okay. Really! Facing your demons and all… By the time I went to pick her up at 2:30 I was fine!

(Although if it happens again I’m just going to plonk her down on the earth and lie down next to her. She’ll probably think that’s a joke too.)

Not so funny today, huh?

Well, it’s over a week now, and we’re really sick and tired with no end in sight…

Things you can do in 45 seconds:

• Haul a dripping wet kid out of the bath to the shelter and get her in half her pajamas. Shampoo in her hair is a problem, so she has to go back in the bath.
• Look for three-year-old Moishy.
• Grab the phone and camera in case of funny scenarios…
• Turn off the flame under your scrambled eggs. Throw the congealed mess out when you come out of the sheltered room.

There’s more, but we’ll keep you in suspense!!

Funny scenario:

You’re brushing your teeth. Siren goes, you saunter into the shelter still brushing your teeth, then wonder: are you meant to hold the minty foam in your mouth for ten minutes, or is it okay to spit it into a tissue? You decide!

Friday, July 18, 2014

We got the news last night that the army has gone in. Suddenly our own worries seem to take a slightly less significant role…

Things I have learned over this last week:

• Sugar’s analgesic and tranquilizing properties are greatly underrated
• I have a fan club
• Trying to keep the house clean while the kids are home is like shoveling water with a pitchfork (nod to Charles Schulz)
• That magnet on my fridge — “this would be funny if it weren’t happening to me”  — is TRUE
• You can gain and lose and lose and gain the same pound endlessly

Wishing everyone a peaceful, quiet Shabbos — only besoros tovos,

Rachel

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Hi, all,

I’m apparently making things sound, as a friend of mine living here put it, “far too much fun.”

So, for those who had the impression that we spend our time laughing our heads off to and from the sealed room… um, not quite.

It’s difficult to describe the way we’re living at the moment. Try and imagine walking through the streets, planning your escape strategy in case of a siren. You get to the end of one road and you’re already scanning the entire length of the one ahead of you, debating the merits of walking really fast on the side you’re on because there are fewer buildings, or crossing back and forth twice so as to keep close to residential buildings all the time. That’s ALL you’re thinking of when you’re outside.

And how about bathtime, orchestrated down to the second — Moishy goes first, his pajamas ready in the sealed room — the minute he’s out, Hubby’s already got Tova in, her pajamas ready in the sealed room too. Would put any military maneuver to shame!

The list goes on — you start beating eggs and wonder if the cake will flop if you have to leave it in the middle. Things get burned or switched off too early because you can’t figure out if it’s better to leave the gas on or turn it off for those crucial minutes.

You want to know where everyone is every second of the day…

To me all of the above sounds like I’m trying to garner sympathy. Nope, I have much more fun turning this ridiculous existence into something to laugh at. But if I’m accused of overusing my poetic license to make things sound like we’re having a good time — the record has officially been set straight.

Now back to the jokes.

An interesting study:

How many “never” house rules have been broken over the last two weeks. (E.g., we never have Shabbos dishes in the sink Sunday night. We never let the kids eat freeze pops during the week. You’re dripping, Malki. We never let the kids eat in the bedrooms. Hah. Hah.)

Have a lovely week and please continue davening for our soldiers.

Rachel

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

’Evening, friends and fam!

Hamas have renewed their barrage with a vengeance — at least vis-à-vis Ashdod. After the relative quiet of Shabbos/Sunday, yesterday and today dashed any hope of returning to normal. As one of my friends said — “This is the new normal, get used to it.” I certainly hope not.

I was caught outside twice, once alone and once with Tova. My planned escape route worked fine, B”H! There were a few direct hits but no injuries.

It’s unbelievable that we’re starting our third week of war. No one thought it would last this long. The mood on the street is — go get ’em and finish the job. But we’re all sick with worry over our soldiers, and are devastated with every bit of bad news. We daven for rachamei Shamayim.

The economic repercussions can already be felt. Yesterday I went to do some retail therapy at a nearby shopping center. It was almost a ghost town. Salesladies were standing around chatting on their phones or with each other — barely any customers in sight. This, toward evening —usually a busy time. Then I went down to Level -1 and found the place swarming with kids. There is a soft play area, and I guess parents figured they don’t have to move their kids if there’s a siren. There were more kids per square inch than anything else…

Small or private businesses are really suffering — you see signs up all over the place: Due to the security situation — open by appointment only.

The bank has limited opening hours; the post office in our area is closed. Bakeries’ shelves are still quite full toward closing time.

Funniest Freudian slip:

I called my friend to see how stable her sanity levels are, compared to mine. Not good, so I told her to invite herself over to me for a game of… GOBBLE!!! (She can eat the cake, I’ll play.)

I’m trying to get a group of friends together for a game of Pictionary. Not happening with all these sirens…

Be well all,
Rachel

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Hi, everyone!

It’s been really busy today… After a quiet night and morning, sirens started at 1:40 p.m. and have been going more or less every hour.

I feel like walking around Ashdod and sticking little signs on various buildings: “I woz ’ere — the siren caught me outside.”

Kind of reminds me of Churchill’s famous speech: “We shall fight on the beaches… we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills…” I once read that it all sounds like a family on vacation. If you substitute “hide” for “fight” you’ll pretty much get the picture around here!

I had another nightmare scenario this afternoon, and it was actually worse than last week. We were on the main road coming back from picking up the kids when the siren went off. When you’re in a car, until you register the noise, you’ve lost quite a few precious seconds. The driver pulled over, and I dragged Tova out of the car. For some odd reason we all decided to camp out under a solitary tree growing in the sand. And we all lay down. Tova looked at me like I’d lost it and tried to sit up, but I just put my hand over her head and pushed her down again. So she started laughing (I told you!) and I laughed too — definitely manic hysteria. So there I was giggling, my friend was telling me she’s gonna bring sand toys next time — her kid was scrabbling in the sand thinking it’s OT time…! And we laughed and laughed.

There were quite a few drivers and special-needs kids there from other cars — some amazing guy has been organizing volunteers to give free rides there and back every day and they all left at the same time. So there we all were, lying in the sand and laughing. (The only one not belonging to our band of merry men was an Arab. He lay motionless on his face for so long I think he was scared of catching whatever was afflicting us.)

By the way, a tree provides zero protection against missiles — it’s just that psychologically you don’t feel so exposed.

I got home still laughing, for some reason. It really wasn’t that funny…

All emergency service vehicles have changed their sirens from the traditional long up-and-down wailing sound, which is too similar to a real siren (especially for kids), to this pathetic little dee-dah sound. It would be funny if it weren’t so sad, but it sounds like Moishy’s toy fire engine!

Funniest scenario:

At approximately 3 a.m. we heard a crash from Tova's room. (We decided to let her sleep there and move her if there’s a siren. She’s just not sleeping well in the shelter with the other kids.) We both leaped out of bed to investigate. Hubby got there first and says, “Direct hit on a house in Ashdod.” Tova's leg had demolished Moishy's Mega Bloks palace… I remembered to laugh when I woke up this morning. At the time I was less amused…

Wishing all a quiet night,
Rachel

Friday, July 25, 2014

Dear family and friends,

Yesterday was the worst day since the war started. For me.

(As far as sirens were concerned, we only had one, at 4:50 p.m.)

Tova got up at 4, Moishy at 6:30. (Need I say more? The rest of this e-mail is probably subtext…)

The day went from bad to worse really quickly.

Try explaining to a miserable three-year-old who’s standing at the front door wearing his backpack, sobbing for two hours that he doesn’t like vacation anymore, he wants to go to gan… that he just can’t. Then try explaining to him why it’s not Shabbos yet, when he begs for it every day because he is just so bored and confused.

I could make a very long list of trying to describe the difficulties I encountered yesterday just trying to keep my act together, but I hate whining... I decided that we must go away for Shabbos, because however hard it would be to leave Tova behind, it would be much harder to deprive her of sane parents.

Once I had gotten over that psychological hurdle, I couldn’t find anyone to take Tova.

Then someone “kindly” told me that I’m just making excuses to not take Tova out of town with us. “It can’t be that complicated,” she said. And brought me to tears.

Then I looked at the calendar and realized that even if a cease-fire is reached, the kids are home till 6 Elul… (I don’t think enough chocolate exists when facing such a verdict!)

So it took me a few hours to get out of my funk — having an argument with a family member didn’t help much. (They were telling me how amazing it is that we had a quiet night…)

On the very bright side!!!!

A dear family member financed a huge Playmobil set for my kids. They were busy with it all afternoon and again today. The feeling that someone far away is really trying to put themselves in our situation was very affirming.

This is 2 p.m. on Friday — I found someone to take Tova for Shabbos and have just stuffed everything I prepared already in the freezer!!!! We’re going to Kiryat Sefer.

Let’s daven for a peaceful Shabbos,
Rachel

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Hi, all family and friends!

Hamas said farewell with a bang. After almost 24 hours of silence, we were at the bus stop at 4 p.m. on Friday waiting for our bus to Kiryat Sefer when… siren! So off we ran to the nearest building, leaving the suitcase lying on the sidewalk. A bus to Bnei Brak had just pulled up, and people poured off. They all followed us…

When we came emerged, we saw the beautiful white zigzag streak of the Iron Dome, ending with the puff of the explosion in the sky over our building. A send-off in style…

I had a lovely Shabbos — we all did!

It’s unbelievable what a parallel universe I encountered there. Everyone does the same things, but it’s without that internal flinching — bracing yourself for the next one! You make Kiddush without wondering if you’ll get to drink before a siren goes off. You get dressed like a human being. You’re not over-alert as to where your kids are every second. And this is in a place that has had a few of its own sirens over the last few weeks of war.

I wonder what makes it different for us. Is it because it’s still a rarity for it to happen over there? Is it because they have 90 seconds to get themselves to a shelter? Is it because we have lived through missile attacks before Iron Dome success complacency set in? No matter, it was a really relaxing feeling, although I did notice myself automatically scanning the streets for the nearest buildings.

I am so grateful to my cousins for having us at the last minute and making us feel so welcome!

Now I feel like my cell phone that flashes “battery not fully charged” when you pull it out of the socket before it’s ready! I started recharging, but came home too early: the family hosting Tova — her surrogate family who can deal with her stroller and routine and mealtime and inability to talk — weren’t able to have her over another night.

So, home sweet home for us.

Now, I may be really stupid, but I definitely need an explanation about this alleged humanitarian cease-fire. Israel stops fighting to allow Gazan terrorists to receive some Band-Aids for their boo-boos, and we get woken up by sirens and missiles on a Sunday morning.

We offer Gaza units of blood, even proposing a Palestinian/Israeli Arab blood drive so as not to offend their sensitivities by sending them Jewish blood. They only want to see that Jewish blood spilled. How does this work exactly?!

Better get my nose out of politics, huh?

Today I felt somewhat normal in that I was drowning in laundry and knowing that all women like me around the world were doing the same thing. I hope and pray that this is the last Nine Days we as a nation ever have to endure.

Love to all!
Rachel

P.S. CONTEST: How long did your laundry basket stay totally empty? Mine, 2hr 15min.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Hi, friends and fam!!

Tova went away for two days! Approximately once every two months, the organization (Refuah V’yeshuah, kudos!) that arranges Friday and Shabbos programs organizes a Shabbos away to a mini-hotel situated in Bnei Brak. Tova gets to go with her own volunteer and she really loves it there. Now this same organization has given us the opportunity to do the same thing with the regular volunteers, only for two to three days (they’ll decide exactly how long according to the security situation). So off Tova went yesterday.

I’m calm about it because: a) it’s in nearby BB, where I can go get her if she’s unhappy; b) it’s not Shabbos, so I’m in constant contact with her volunteer; and c) it’s what we all need right now.

I struggled with ambivalent feelings, and still do whenever I leave Tova or send her away, especially during wartime. I never know if I’m doing the right thing! It’s a matter of weighing up the pros and cons, and realizing that you’ll end up a loser both ways — so find the best way to be a loser!

So the rest of us decided to finally go to Beit Shemesh to see my brother, his wife, and my new little niece who all arrived two weeks ago from America, and whom we have not been able to meet because of those dratted Arabs. We left at 7 p.m. yesterday, so Hamas felt the need to assert themselves at 6:30 p.m. with a little send-off. Parting was no sweet sorrow!

Then we had a lovely supper and got to hold the yummiest baby.

We got on the 11 p.m. bus home. The driver was in a huge rush — I was afraid we’d get pulled over for flying too low…

But it was still nice to get out of the house. (Sticky as the floor is, it’s really difficult to leave…)

It seems like yesterday that I wrote to you how I can’t believe we’re going into our third week of war. I really never dreamed I would say fourth week…

Wishing all a gut chodesh and only good news,
Rachel

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Hi, all!

It’s been a weird day. People keep on calling to ask me how the cease-fire is going… and I want to know where the cease-fire is, because it’s definitely not over here!!

If anyone finds a Monday floating around, I think that’s mine — it can’t be Thursday tomorrow, so I must have missed out a day or two this week!

Hoping for a quiet night!!
Rachel

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Hi family and friends,

This time, the 72 hour cease-fire seems to be real. It officially went into effect 8:00am Tuesday morning. Of course, Hamas made a party and a half in the twenty minutes before 8:00 — Ashdod got to be the last but not least at 7:59am. They always like to have the last word…

Where does this leave us? We don’t know. People are taking advantage of this quiet to escape Ashdod. The shopping centers are full – the parks empty. There is the tentative hope that this horrible month of war has drawn to a close. We're using the opportunity to restock disposables and ice pops…

Where does this leave you? You may actually have to get used to the cessation of these war diaries…

Paradox, paradox. Our lives as believing Yidden is the ultimate paradox. We weep, we rejoice. We celebrate with ashes and shards of glass.

But we know – lakol zman v'eis.

A time for war and a time for peace. (However uneasy or temporary!)

A time for mourning and a time for rejoicing.

We sat on the ground yesterday and mourned the House that is no more.

And today we got up to wash our clothes and listen to music; to hope for peace and to finally have that bubble bath…

How does this work?? What kind of a peace can this be when precious lives have been snuffed out in their prime? When our enemies will use this time to rearm themselves – and have sworn to destroy us all until there remains no trace? When the 72 hour cease-fire will be over Friday morning…and then what?

The ultimate paradox. Yet among the mourning we hear the ultimate words of comfort.

Nachamu, nachamu Ami…

Looking forward to see you all in Yerushalayim bimheirah!

Love to all,
Rachel