This seems to be the theme of my week. I am really not enjoying it very much. And so I blog….
As I wrote in my last post, I have a child that wants me to rescue her from (very expensive) sleepaway camp. I expect the pleas to intensify during visiting day, although I hope to be pleasantly surprised. For now, I am leaning towards making her stick it out until the end. Tough love. Very grown up. Not a lot of fun.
The teenager did a teenager thing. He broke a rule, he has to pay the price. He hates the price, and he isn’t very happy about it. It is a steep price……. it was a big rule. He would like the conversation to be about the rule itself. Of course it isn’t. It’s about the breaking of a rule, any rule, and just getting caught the 400th or bizzillionth time. Add in the trying-to-play-off-of-the-divorced-parents-that-can’t-get-along tactics that are so normal hasn’t made the situation more fun.
We have to remain consistent – and calm. We have to follow through, because, well, because we have to. We have to deflect the arguments from the other parent to reneg on the consequence and not be consistent. We may have to endure the withholding of the teenager’s time and affection as our punishment for punishing.
It was much easier when I was the teen in this spelled out scenario, and someone else had to be the grown up. Nobody told me then, in my indignation and rage, that this end of it is actually harder. The only thing worse than having to be the “bad cop” parent is being the non-custodial “bad cop” parent. At least as the stepmom I can take a lot less of the heat than DH.
Giving our children what they need instead of what they want is so hard. The challenge is daily, yet I often feel we cave less than some. We are the strict meanie parents who don’t give our kids candy, after all.
There isn’t any solution; we just have to take our medicine and do what is right, precisely as we are demonstrating to our children that they must do. So I gripe (blog), because I would much rather give in, feed them junk, let them stay up late and send them home full and happy to someone else who has to worry about their character development.
Oh wait… I get to do that (G-d willing) with their kids, right? No wonder they* say that grandparenting is the best part!
I sent my eldest daughter off to sleepaway camp this past week for the first time. I was determined to NOT write a trite and soppy blog post about what this has felt like for me, or for her. The mixed emotions are the same as lots of other parents. I went to sleepaway camp – Camp Ramah of New England – for three years, and I remember the excitement, the homesickness, the lack of letter writing, the first week of hating it, and then the not wanting to go home.
My daughter isn’t me, and Camp Sternberg, and Orthodox girls-only camp is definitely not co-ed, Hebrew speaking, Conservative Camp Ramah.
Even though I was all happy for her until precisely the moment I had to walk back to my car alone and then started to cry, feeling old and proud at the same time, this blog post is NOT going to be about that.
….You see, my daughter isn’t happy at camp. She wasn’t so happy after two days, and borrowed a phone from a junior counselor to call and tell me. She couldn’t find some of her stuff, she was homesick – and you know? I was okay with it. That is normal for the first two days at sleepaway. Trite. Not worth writing about.
Then the program director called me. “Your daughter is very homesick. She would like to speak with you. She has been crying. She is asking to go home.”
The director and I are on the same page that it is still early, and that my daughter has to get used to being away. That adjustments and challenges aren’t always fun, but are worth it, and that this is a good life lesson for her at this stage of life. The director encouraged me to speak to my daughter just to reinforce that she has to try her best to make the best of it until visiting day.
WHICH IS ONLY ONE WEEK AWAY.
So what is this about?
The gaping chasm between my mind knowing that challenges and sometimes even pain can be good for my children over the long term, and what my heart is telling me it wants to do.
I give my children vaccinations, and watch them cry. I watch them struggle with school studies, and I push them to work at it, rather than fix their problems. I know that they need to build all kinds of physical and spiritual muscles that sometimes only have “gain” with “pain”.
I know this to be true.
The feelings I have about my baby feeling sad and doing nothing to fix it, well, that is quite a different story.
This strong part of me feels compelled to kiss the boo-boo – to prevent or instantly fix the “skinned knee“….
I cannot help wonder to myself if mother and daughter are both struggling with very similar and equally painful tugs: She wants to stay and for it to be fun. She wants for this to work. She also feels sad and misses my arms, her bed, my food.
I want this to work for her. I want her wings to get strong on their own. I want to watch her master a challenge, overcome a struggle, breathe through the pain and emerge victorious. But I also want to run up there and hold her every day for just a little while, like emotional training wheels, until she is all right for a whole day, two days, a week – instead of sitting here on my hands.
The midwife that delivered this very same daughter told me then that she doesn’t allow mothers of the laboring woman to be present for her home-birth deliveries. She explained that the woman in labor can cope much easier with her own pain than her mother can cope watching her daughter go through it while doing nothing to help.
I guess that means I better adjust, because it looks like this is only the beginning…. for both of us.
I have been on hiatus for too long, especially since my last post was the Jewish blog carnival. I apologize. My eldest daughter is leaving for Camp Sternberg in the morning, (with me driving the three hours,)and it has had me quite hyperfocused for a while.
Amy Meltzer has tagged me in a fun meme for Tu B’av on her wonderful Homeshuling blog.
She gives a great explanation of the Jewish “love holiday” Tu B’av: “…a traditional festival dating back to the time of the mishnah, when young women dressed in white would sing and dance in the vineyards, while the single men would look on, hoping to find their basherte.”
Amy asks what is our favorite Jewish love song. The variety of songs that fall into such a broad category must be huge.
For me, I think it has to be “Dodi Li” (My beloved is mine), to the tune taught to me, and often performed by Cantor Debbie Katchko Gray. My oldest, deepest and most genuine connection to G-d is through music. This was fostered and developed by “Cantor Debbie” for many years, for which I am very, very grateful. Now I sing this song with my husband.
I hope Cantor Debbie will read this and send me a link to her singing it. Turns out, Ima on (and off) the Bima picked this one as well. What can I say? Great minds….?
… Now that no one is most likely reading this anymore, I found a file of me singing this song for a friend so she could learn it. Dodi Li.
What about you? I tag Immahlady and In The Pink, but I would love to hear from the rest of you too!
Founded by Soccer Dad, Haveil Havalim is a carnival of Jewish blogs — a weekly collection of Jewish and Israeli blog highlights, tidbits and points of interest collected from blogs all around the world. It’s hosted by different bloggers each week and coordinated by the formidable Jack.
I have not commented on every entry, but I have read (and enjoyed them all.) Especially when it comes to Judaism and Torah, it isn’t always a good idea to weigh in. If yours did not receive my two cents, please forgive me – maybe you will consider yourselves lucky! Looking back, there seem to be two common threads this week; oppression / dislike of Jews around the world (especially in the media) and “can’t we all just get along”, both very appropriate for the Nine Days.
Thank you, fellow Jewish bloggers, for becoming an important community for me. I hope this first shot at the carnival aptly conveys my gratitude:
Paul Gable presents Israel Matters posted at Brushfires of Freedom. It may be a hard pill to swallow for some, but is a critical call to action for us all.
Chabad presents The eighth note! posted at lubavitch.com Chabad-Lubavitch news site. As a musician, I would just love to learn more about who “they” is that says there will be an eighth note, and where they say it! Please let us know.
Yisrael Medad presents Did He Deserve the Medal? posted at My Right Word, saying, “Perhaps this British soldier didn’t deserve a medal?”. I’m no Yisrael Medad, but I think he deserves the medal. Maybe it is the historians who need to get sacked.
Yisrael Medad presents Write to J Street posted at My Right Word, saying, “You don’t really like J Street, do You?”, in which he exposes how US enforcement of NGO rules seems frighteningly inconsistent. What a surprise.
Yisrael Medad presents Hillary Clinton’s Humor posted at My Right Word, saying, “Hillary feels so Jewish, becoming the mother-in-law of one of the tribe, that she feels she can be humorous about antisemitism”. Not very funny, indeed.
and….Yisrael Medad presents JPost.com | BlogCentral | Green-Lined | A grand newspaper or a political rag sheet? posted at Green-Lined, saying, “At his Jerusalem Post blog, Yisrael Medad takes on the New York Times”. He can accept that glaringly obvious anti-Yesha stance of the paper. Here he takes issue with the lack of journalism standards. For me, just another reason to never read the NYT.
Culture
Susan Howe presents 12 Truly Bizarre Funeral Customs from Around the World posted at The Budget Life Blog, saying, “Various funeral and burial customs surrounding the dead have grown up in various places around the world. Some of them are really interesting to know that they still exist as technology advances.” This is fascinating and researched glimpse at traditions I have never seen before. Some are downright amusing. Others are downright disgusting.
David Levy presents Tisha B’Av by Candlelight posted at Jewish Boston, saying, “Dan Brosgol remembers observing Tisha B’Av at Camp Ramah.” Me too! Me too! I fondly remember Tisha B’Av by Candlelight at Ramah as well… and I have more than a decade on Dan Brosgol.
Mirjam Weiss presents A Fishy Story in Two Parts posted at Miriyummy, saying, “Girl vs fish, fish wins, and a cross cultural dinner.” Great story, great recipe, and apparently, a great future son-in-law.
shorty presents What have i done lately? posted at Shorty’s Adventure. Sad, struggling, honest. I hope that when the Nine Days end you feel your spirit lifted and new optimism… oh, and freeze challahs so they don’t go to waste.
Elise/ Independent Patriot presents EMERGENCY CALL NOW: NO RESTRAINT AND SECLUSION IN THE IEP posted at Raising Asperger’s Kids, saying, “Because it is against basic jewish ethics to abuse the most vulnerable in society plese list this blog so ppl will call and help stop this addition to the bill. It takes away children’s rights and teh rights of parents to stop the abuse.” This is a disturbing policy. Thank you for bringing this to our attention. We hope you will keep your readers posted on this bill.
Minnesota Mameleh presents Summer Days Summer Nights posted at TC Jewfolk. I can’t say I agree completely with the “everyone does what works for them” approach. Maybe I will have the honor of a healthy cyber -dialogue on the matter with the amazing Mamaleh herself one day. But her post is sticky, gooey sweet… and yummy.
Politics
Ben-Yehudah presents Jewish Criticism Of Israel posted at Esser Agaroth, saying, “From Yo’el Meltzer, posting at Esser Agaroth.” How and when can US Jews criticize Israel? This is an interesting principle from which to operate.
Risa presents Remember Gush Katif posted at Isramom. Thank you for making me cry, even though you are right, the tears aren’t enough.
Torah
I haven’t written any comments next to the entries in this section. I read and enjoyed them all, and learned. I promise. You should too.
Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver presents Understanding the two sides within posted at A Chassidishe farbrengen. I hope the way I understand this is correct. I have always thought that true kedushah comes from the integration of these two sides, not just the struggle, or the primacy of one.
Eric presents Lies In Iran’s Media Exposed posted at The Israel Situation, saying, “Iran’s newspaper wrote a horrible, incorrect article about UNIFIL and the Lebanon War in 2006. This is a line by line look at the facts.”
Eric also presents My Israel Support posted at The Israel Situation, saying, “A look at what I am doing to support Israel at home and ideas for you to do the same.” I can’t look at the mainstream media anymore, never mind analyze its inaccuracies and biased coverage against Israel. Good luck with the new assignments!
Anonymous presents Eleven days posted at Door number three, please., saying, “Uberimma and family are making aliya at the end of July. Be part of their welcoming committee at Ben Gurion, especially if you are a soldier!” Good luck on your upcoming aliyah! Yashar Koach, titchadshu, and b’hatzlacha…. I am not sure what I like better, the post, or the list of 100 things on the side.
.. and Harry presents Tourists flocking to Israel at Israelity. Nice to hear (and end this with) some good news. I hope he is right that it’s the best year ever for Israeli tourism. Hope we can make it the best year ever for aliyah too.
That concludes this edition. Submit your blog article to the next edition of haveil havalim using our carnival submission form. Past posts and future hosts can be found on our blog carnival index page.
I hope that this is a meaningful Tisha B’av for you.
Tisha B’av is always a personally challenging time for me. When we first moved back to the United States ten years ago, I cried so much on Tisha B’av. I felt like my own Yerushalayim had been ripped away from me. I felt like I knew better than anyone alive what it meant to really yearn for Jerusalem.
The problem is, it is a personal longing. I missed my home, I missed my life.
The mourning of Tisha B’av is of something much greater, and more religious. I have struggled with and worked at internalizing that Tisha B’av is a time for real yearning for the Beit Hamikdash, our holiest Temple. Our unity as a people, our connection to G-d, and our ability to express that through the many mitzvot we cannot currently perform. We are even mourning our lack of understanding what we are truly missing. Generations past rent their clothes and cried out because the stories and memories of the beautiful Temple in all of its glory were still fresh enough to hurt and burn their hearts. We have even lost that.
I have grown at crying over these national losses, and not just how much I miss Shabbat meals at Ruthie’s or going to a class with Debbie.
This week, we had guests stay with us for Shabbat. A friend who feels like family was in from Eli (Israel) with his young son. He didn’t do anything or say anything earth shattering. Our conversations were for the most part the picking up where we left off over a year ago, as always seems to happen with good friends that you don’t see often but you know will always be friends. Just another one of our friends in from Israel for a friendly visit before returning to Israel.
I made aliyah in 1995 and lived in Israel for six years. While I only have two more years to count down until I finally get to return, I have now been “back” in the US for a full decade. One might argue that having spent 15.8% of my life in Israel hardly makes me an Israeli.
I moved to Israel straight after college (even skipping graduation) in 1995. I spent a year there from 1990-91, and never really left emotionally. Although I returned to North America to get a college degree, I was already friends with Israelis, learning and speaking Hebrew, returning to Israel each summer, and planning my aliyah. I have always felt that my childhood development was in the US, but my adulthood development was in Israel. My first apartment, job, car and many other adult experiences were all in Israel. The type of community I wanted to live in, and the kind of environment I wanted in which to grow into the person I wanted to be, were all in Israel.
When I moved there, it was for all of the reasons others have presented, historical, cultural, religious, philosophical, etc., but mostly because I felt at home. Lots of us olim seem to say that, don’t we?. I have been back in the US for so long now, and at the beginning I worried a great deal that I would simply start to feel more at home here.
That has never happened.
This is what brings me back to our Shabbat guest.
It just felt so strikingly familiar to have him around. He (and his wife) think like us, talk like us, daven like us, parent like us… are people from “our planet”. Having him around just reminded me of how much we are not with people like us and are never truly at home while here.
We live in an amazing community with wonderful people. I will need to post another blog about what a unique and special place this is for one’s growth as a Jew.
Still, this feeling that I am swimming upstream every single day doesn’t abate, and is what makes me miss Israel the most. There is something so wonderful about overcoming differences, meeting other kinds of people, broadening one’s horizons… but there is also something so wonderful about just going home.
I don’t think that most Israelis would perceive me to be very Israeli, or even necessarily from “their planet”. American olim, however, are definitely our own category, and within that group is always where I feel most at home.
It was wonderful to have a Shabbat guest, and to see an old friend. But being so close to Tisha B’av, I find myself fighting the temptation to feel consumed by yearning of the homesickness variety. I have to channel that longing and sadness and use it to tap into the true focus of the day.
According to this news story, a new study shows that the more children a woman has, the lower her risk of suicide.
As with many modern “scientific studies”, the natural cynic in me wonders about the chicken-egg problem here.
My guess is that women who make a decision to have a large family, for the most part, are a self-selecting group of people less likely to be suicidal.
I also would venture to guess that most of us with a large family are too busy to have enough time to contemplate which method of suicide would work best, or how to carry it out.
Commenting on my last vacation post, Miriyummy pointed out that when we go on a family vacation I am “the facilitator of fun” much more than I am actually having it. At least most of the time.
I have found over the years that I have to find the pockets of pleasure for myself within the family vacation.
Sometimes I leave the kids with DH and a mother’s helper (and/or my parents) and I steal off for an hour. It can be window shopping, getting a pedicure or sitting with a friend, but I have to leave the family for a while and go indulge. I confess that while on this particular annual vacation the indulgence is often Ben & Jerry’s or ‘bake yourself’ frozen chocolate chip cookies; this doesn’t help my figure much.
Sometimes I have to make the family agenda what will make me happy… and of course since my mood sets the tone for better or worse, this usually does work. This can mean we go to the park instead of the ocean, or play the board game together as a family that I want to play.
Sometimes making it feel like fun for me means plunging in and deciding to have a great time doing what we are doing anyway whether it is what I would normally enjoy or not.
Mostly this means enjoying little – sometimes tiny – pockets of serenity that pop up in the midst of lots of effort. For July Fourth I sat on the neighbors’ lawn with a neon multicolored sunset over the water off in the distance, twenty different fireworks displays visible in towns miles away on the shore line, and our own private display by the family one lawn over down the beach. A wine cooler, pleasant company and the perfect summer beach night weather (the bugs weren’t so perfect.) While enjoying it I let it infuse me; making it a memory while happening.
It isn’t three days of solitude in Bermuda, but in those few minutes I was alone, in peace and serenity… and bliss.
When I am lucky I have enough little dots of vacation to connect at the end, so that in the end, I feel that I too had a enjoyable getaway.
Last week, Marjorie Ingall wrote an article in the online Jewish magazine Tablet that made me quite upset. I wanted to scream from the rooftops via this blog. While I expressed my opinion quite unequivocally there in the comments section, I deferred writing about it myself.
First of all, I have never seen anything good come from writing out of anger and actually hitting “send” or “publish”. Second, I was angry enough that I definitely did not want to respond to the article by sending it lots of extra traffic. Note that I haven’t yet put in the link. You can look at it since I have no doubt made you curious, but I am going to add the link at the end of this piece, because I would rather first get my say.
The title of the article is “Blogorrhea: Why I Don’t Read Mommyblogs”. Had she written about why she personally doesn’t choose to read mommyblogs, I do not think I would have gotten upset. However, she wrote that someone else included her in the category somewhere as a mommyblogger and this “horrified” her. The article is primarily explaining her horror, dumping on mommyblogs all along the way.
I found this to be off-putting and I felt angry because of the tone of intellectual superiority, which always pushes my buttons. “I am so much better than you”, regardless of the reasoning – or even the veracity of the statement – will always upset me. The fact that a professional would choose to write an article about why she is superior to mommybloggers as a “real writer” does not seem to be a great topic with which to demonstrate her own point.
Having said that, so what? Why write a post about it? Why not choose to think she is an annoying and bad writer and no longer read her stuff, right?
The reason is I think that she chose to make her point by choosing the highest common denominator of her self-defined category and comparing it to the lowest common denominator of mommybloggers in order to demonstrate said superiority. I think she mentioned a tiny number of exceptions to her own rules about mommybloggers, presenting them as the only few gems in a vast sea of trash, and because I think she is dead wrong.
So, while far, far, far fewer people will see this than her article in Tablet magazine, this is why I do read mommyblogs:
There is without a doubt a great number of mommyblogs that are personal diaries stored on-line. While I am sure that they are posted for good reasons, almost none of them ever get my attention. There are a lot of other mommyblogs, however, that confront issues very differently than parenting magazines and personalize them for me in a way that helps me reflect, learn and improve.
There are incredibly talented writers who chose different priorities than a writing career – in many cases their mommyhood – that channel that talent into sharing about issues that matter very deeply to me and inspire me to be a better mother and a better writer.
Many women cope through sharing, and I am one of them. I have found community in the world of blogging in a way that I never could in the real world. There are women whose lives or interests intersect with mine in different ways, with whom I have connected in a way that has changed me forever. While “article writers” may choose to feel that they are “real writers”, they are also distancing themselves from their audience, and are talking at the reader. Many mommybloggers are engaged in a powerful cyberdiscussion that flows through many different blogs and cumulatively has an impact on the participants. In my case, that impact has been profound.
I think that there is a very long list of extraordinary, talented, articulate women out there who are passionate about raising children the best way they can. Some are passionate about other things I also love, such as Judaism, Israel, music or the increase of one’s knowledge. They are teaching me and inspiring me and helping me do a better job, exposing me to ideas, challenging my assumptions, inspiring me with photos, poetry, reflections and even sometimes sentimental stories or gripes. They are talking and listening, and the conversations are a part of my growth.
I feel sorry for anyone who isn’t proud to have the title of mommyblogger… she must not know most of you out there that have become my latest heroes. You know who you are.
This i s day four of our annual family vacation. After feeling like I have been running up a steep hill for the first three days, I am finally hitting my stride, reaching that “aahhh, I am on vacation” feeling.
Believe me, it won’t last for the duration. It will come and go like the tides of the bay on Cape Cod that I am gazing at as I write from an adirondack chair on our rental front lawn. I am close enough to the ocean to see the fishing pole of my neighbor out on his boat, but close enough to the house to enjoy the benefits of the wi fi, and check on lunch for the expected onslaught of hungry children.
My parents live on Cape Cod year-round, and we make one extended and difficult trek up for a glorious couple of weeks every summer. Not only do we enjoy a vacation I cannot afford, but they are here to help, visit with, and spoil us. Over the years, they have learned progressively to find a balance between family time and enough space for themselves to truly enjoy the disruption that comes with the arrival of our large family. (Translation: they don’t want us around every minute. It stresses them out beyond belief.)
The packing to get my family satisfactorily situated in a rental home for two weeks is a tremendous undertaking. Unfortunately, it is also one of the areas in which I do not seem to successfully delegate. This year I packed the majority of our suitcases before Shabbat and drove on Sunday morning. This definitely improved things.
My husband and I drove up separately. This meant I only had to travel with three kids in the car, (an amazing experience I don’t remember ever having,) but it also meant driving five and a half hours straight by myself.
When we arrived it was too early to move into the rental. I needed to pacify and settle the kids, unpack a limited number of things, and try my best to prepare for the second wave once DH arrived. I wanted to collapse, but of course the baby my two year old woke up at five am disoriented and confused.
I moved everything into the rental house the next morning with two HUGE vanful trips (one trip with items I had packed, one with items that were at my parents’ house). I unpacked and assigned bedrooms, fed kids and bought supplies. Then I kashered part of the house, assessed what else I needed from my mother’s kosher kitchen, found switches and towels, then did more moving and shopping.
All of this was done with tremendous sleep deprivation and constant – CONSTANT – complaining from my kids. I just couldn’t figure out what was going on that my kids were bickering, fighting and whining the entire time. They are on a beach vacation! There are televisions in the rooms (!). There is an ocean view out of lots of windows, and Saba and Safta give kids ice cream unlike their mean parents. I was the one doing almost all of the work. What could there possibly be to complain about?
Of course I knew in the back of my head that their moods are always dependent on mine. This is the principle of motherhood which blind-sighted me the most, and with which I have the most trouble. It is hard enough for me to remain positive instead of cranky without the added pressure that my tone is the one that sets it for the rest of the house. I hate that. I wish someone else could have that job, and infuse me with a positivity that gets me out of my funk, instead of the other way around all of the time.
So, today, I stopped chugging. I stopped packing, loading, unpacking, rushing, huffing and puffing. I watched a movie with DH last night that I had really wanted to see, which included a good cry and laugh. I sat out in an adirondack chair, enjoying the view and starting this post. (It will have taken me the whole day in spurts by the time I am done.) I will enjoy the beach and the visit of a friend.
Magically, miraculously, the complaining, whining and bickering has stopped, at least for now. The “aaaahhh” is a collective one.
My blessed pre-teen said today “is a perfect example of pure happiness.”
In the midst of the chugging, I really couldn’t remember why I do this to myself every year. In the same way that I forget the pain of the getting here AND the going home from year to year, apparently I forget the bliss of an entire family going “aaaahhhh”…..
As we plan to head back today on a school-is-out celebratory trip with friends, I wanted to write about the Zoo itself.
We LOVE this zoo. I do not know if it is just because it is a zoo, or because of familiarity with this one, or because of particular things about the Philadelphia Zoo. We have been to this one many times, and I don’t remember taking my kids to many others.
We have been to the Zooquarium in Cape Cod, but I found it disappointing.
My stepson loved the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo as a child, but alas, those memories were not made with me.
My generous parents have gifted us a zoo membership for a number of the past few years. This includes zoo rides, such as ponies, a carousel, and a hot air balloon ride. While the rides aren’t my favorite part, they make it much easier to take a mixed-age crowd such as mine. Needless to say, with a brood our size, the parking, one visit and one set of rides by six kids paid for the membership. (The rides are expensive otherwise, at $6 per ride kid for some of them. )
The pony ride.
The designated parking lots that are free if you are members make getting there much easier. The park is amenable to bringing your own food, which makes it an easier trip than most for anyone keeping kosher.
There are a nice combination of indoor and outdoor exhibits positioned in such a way that we can enjoy the zoo in the winter, when it rains, and even on a ninety degree day, such as today threatens to be. While I love to explore and see new things, the zoo is just one very typical example of how my children crave familiarity. The fact that the zoo has been seen so many times seems to make it comfortable to them, and give them a sense of mastery, not boredom.
On our last trip I wanted to make the trip more interesting for the kids, and easier on me. I went to their web site looking for some on-line activities for the kids to do when we got there. I couldn’t find any! The web site has a great section for educators, but the material there is mostly designed for in-classroom lessons in preparation for a field trip.
I did find these great scavenger hunts at other web sites:
The kids really enjoyed them, and had more focus. I have since been in touch with the Philly Zoo about this, and I was amazed that they returned my call. However, that follow up has not yet resulted in a change to the web site or any Philly Zoo scavenger hunts being emailed to me although I was told they would be. I hold out hope.
I used to want to take the kids on a lot of different adventures. I have learned to take them where they know, where they want to go, and where I already know how to easily find a bathroom.
I find most museums to be more expensive, and hard to suit to a wide variety if ages. I would love to hear your recommendations for other trips/spots.
I also welcome any suggestions on more strategies for trying something new at the zoo.
This summer the zoo is having a family “Rock and Roar” concert series, and we are planning on going back to see Yosi and The Superdads on August 17th. Is a cute, fun band that the kids just love. (Thanks for the intro, Cindy.)
I would love to see you there. Just look for the Ima with seven kids.
