The Great Wolf Lodge is aptly named. It is Great. It is a Lodge. There are Wolves.
This place is a cool concept. It works hard to be all-inclusive. And it does a great job.
In short, it's enterjoyment* to the max. With one big, fat exception: the beds.
We paid a small fortune to go to GWL. And it was worth every penny of it to see the kids have so much fun. But, my entire body is still gritching about those beds.
I mean, good golly, Miss Molly! Is it too much to ask for a mattress AND a box spring, not just a bunkie board? I understand Mattress Giant will sell you last year's model for a song!
Retrospectively, though, I think I understand why the beds were the way they were. Truly, when you have had your fill of the water park and have walked through the bazillion square feet underfoot to point a really cool wand at random pictures of medieval stuff so you can collect tokens and play a game called "Dragon Quest", you are beyond tired.
I can almost hear the conversation the executive design-team had: "So, what's the big deal about a mattress? After all the fun our guests will have, they'll be asleep in no time. The mattress really won't matter. So, let's pursue the CHEAPEST model on planet Earth."
Since, in my case, the biggest water ride became my Netti pot by shooting a gallon of water up my left nostril on my descent down the wall of the ride, the bed really DID matter. My sinus cavity was burning like crazy for a good hour after this happened. I could feel all those chemicals designed to render poo and pee molecules in the water "safe" just sitting in my sinus cavity, rubbing their little atoms together going "HAHAHAHAHAHA. ANOTHER VICTIM."
And, yes. Two weeks later, I am STILL recovering from that water bomb.
So, when it was time for bed, I was in pain from being violated by overly-chlorinated water. I didn't need another source of discomfort to aggravate me.
At first I thought I was uncomfortable because I needed to use the loo. So, I got up, did my business and returned to bed.
Then I thought I needed to blow my nose. Trucked it to the bathroom again, blew my nose until I thought I'd see brain material, and realized there was NOTHING coming out by air and the smell of chlorine. Back I schlepped it to the bed.
It was the third time I hit the bed that I realized it was designed for someone with no bones in their body. Because, if you didn't have bones in your hips or shoulders or knees, the bed would have been fine because nothing sharp or pointy would need cushioning. And, even though I have the benefit of three layers of cushioning from having three children, that wasn't helping.
Sadly, I realized in that moment, "I hate having bones."
I tossed and turned all night long. I'd wake up, turn over, turn over again, and then turn to the midpoint between my first and second overs. There was NO comfortable position.
Come morning, the fun started all over again. Literally, we were active from 9a.m. to 3p.m. Walking the building, getting in and out of the water, searching for clues. You name it, we did it.
By the time we hit the car, I KNEW the kids were going to sleep well that night. And, I was SO grateful. That meant Mike and I could have some "private" time together at an hour that didn't start with the word "eleven".
Because, even though we were paying for a hotel room, and hotel room + married couple = S.E.X., there was no privacy. And, frankly, I was afraid someone might bruise themselves on the mattress if we even tried to get intimate.
Problem was, by the time we made it home, everyone was cranky, including me and Mike. "Tired" and "hungry" were also in the air. Cranky + Tired + Hungry = one ugly trifecta of family misery.
Nickels actually said "Can I eat and go to bed?" It was 6p.m. I wanted to ask Mike the same question, but I knew I was the one who had to make dinner.
When I finally laid down on my bed around 7:30p.m., I audibly sighed. And pulled the covers all the way up underneath my neck. And smiled like a Cheshire cat for about three minutes.
When Mike walked in the room and saw me, he said "Are you glad to be home in your own bed?" To which I responded "Can you tell?"
Of course, within about ten minutes of being in bed, I was out like a light. And, the next day, and the subsequent 10 days after that? I've been sick, thanks to that nose shot of chlorine I didn't even ask for.**
Retrospectively, I think I would have had more fun if I had taken a couple hundred dollars, sent them through the shredder and stayed home in our own bed.
True to form though, in about six months, when our next child "earns" his trip to GWL, I will have forgotten all about this experience.
By then I will have purchased a proper nose plug. And, yes. You can laugh all you want when you see me.
At least that will alleviate one of the dimensions of sadism I'll experience when we return.
*It's the fusion of entertainment and enjoyment, a phrase coined by one of the Nowell boys awhile back. And filed in the beaner for use later by MommaJ.
**I now understand what it must feel like to snort something up your nose. NO THANKS. I gave at GWL.
***That's the sound of the wolf in the water park that plays about every 15 minutes. It doesn't drive you COMPLETELY crazy...only partially.