Anyone looking at me right now would struggle to believe I have even half a positive word to say about the situation in which we find ourselves. I’m sprawled on my bed with a laptop on my legs after another night of nonstop sirens (I’m on the front line in rocket-hit Petah Tikva — bow down, the rest of you privileged people), my neck twisted under two disproportionate pillows and my hair looking like a bird’s nest hit by a drone.
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When her son's kindergarten teacher sees her on Zoom she gets worried: From the fashion show runway of Yohji Yamamoto
(Photo: Getty Images IL/Peter White )
Wait, I’m not done: I’m also dealing with seasonal allergies, working full time and trying to entertain — between sneezes and sirens — three children who are literally climbing the walls. But hey, as Professor Yuval said, we’re not pampered prima donnas and we didn’t survive this long just to complain, right? So here’s my glass-half-full take on this impossible situation.
No after-school activities for the kids:
One of my biggest weekly challenges is my youngest son’s free time. I find myself waiting for hours outside smelly sports halls and dingy community centers, as if he’s the next Deni Avdija. Honestly, in 2026 the whole concept of waiting outside a class feels outdated. Everything is moving fast, everyone is rushing, AI is soaring — and I, along with a few bitter parents, have to pause life to wait for a class to end. I’m just not enjoying it.
My workouts are on hold:
I wanted to exercise. I paid for it. I scheduled it. I bought sports bras. I committed. Then the war broke out. Force majeure.
I don’t have to do my hair:
This activity has become completely unnecessary. For days on end I live in pajamas and hair clips. If I need to put my personal roaring lion (his name is Leo, he’s five) on Zoom, I swap the clip for a giant headband so the kindergarten teacher won’t panic (she panics anyway). But here’s the thing — while scrolling Instagram and watching fashion week runways, I discovered that messy hair is actually in! Neat hair is out, greasy, tangled hair is in. I swear. I don’t know about you, but that improved my mood.
Tentative plans are canceled:
There’s nothing I love more than canceling tentative plans. It doesn’t even matter who made them — even if it was me. The woman who wakes up in the morning full of energy and texts, “Let’s tentatively meet tonight, I miss you!” has nothing to do with the woman I become by evening. Like Cinderella’s carriage, once it gets dark, I turn back into a pumpkin.
No need to look for parking:
The mass cancellation of plans also eliminates something else I deeply hate — looking for parking. I know I’m not alone, but for me it comes with anxiety attacks so severe I’ve ended friendships just to avoid making plans that would require parking. No plans, no outings, no need to move the car. Problem solved.
No need to fill up the car:
In normal times, I try to stick my husband with this annoying task. I’ll drive on fumes before willingly entering a gas station. Not because I’m delicate — I just don’t know how to do it. No matter how many times I’ve been taught, I can’t grasp the sequence of self-service fueling. And I don’t know how to tell you this — but there are no attendants anymore. They’ve all disappeared. I’m calling from here: bring back gas station attendants!
No need for makeup:
If I’m working from home and not going anywhere, I don’t need makeup. Which is great, because I’m not good at it and I hate removing it afterward — which greatly annoys my pores. Now that whole unpleasant chain of events is gone. Thank God.
No need to make weekend plans:
As daylight saving time approaches, I usually feel pressure to go out and travel — from my husband, from my kids and from those annoying people on Instagram who insist this is the most beautiful time of year. So every weekend I find myself stuck on some hill that smells like cows, wearing a bucket hat, carrying a bag full of sandwiches, surrounded by unhappy children. And now? Peace. No pressure to go see the “red south,” the “green north” or anything else. No strawberry picking, no carrot harvesting, no ATV rides. There’s nothing like being at home.