A Mother from Sderot...

Still under rocket fire....

Today we had two Qassams. Every time there's a red alert, you drop everything and run to shelter. You lose a heartbeat each time.

I know my children are safe in school, but it's the journey there and back I worry about. The terrorists love that time between 0730 and 0800.

Every morning, we get into the car and we don't know how it will end. I've felt like that for eight years.

All these little things we think are normal, but they're not. Like someone else listening out for you when you're in the shower, because you can't hear the siren in the shower.

I reconsider five times before taking the children to a playground.

The kids have their own rooms, but they all sleep together at night, in the room with concrete walls. That way they don't have to run in the middle of the night - you only have 20 seconds once you hear the siren.

When we leave for a weekend with the children, we drive straight out of town without stopping. We've lived with these things for eight years.

After the war there was one week of quiet. My heart was calmer and I felt secure. But once the first Qassam exploded after the war - that was it. The war didn't do enough.

We moved here as a family 10 years ago. Three of our six children were born here. It was quiet 10 years ago, there wasn't the slightest idea we'd be part of all this.

I don't even know why it started eight years ago. One thing I do know: since Israel left Gaza, it has got worse, that's for sure.