Flash Sale Siren Songs & Other Financially Questionable Decisions

This trip technically started because Great Wolf Lodge decided to personally tempt my impulsive tendencies.

They ran one of those dangerous little flash sales where suddenly I could snag a room for $90 before taxes and fees, and honestly? At that price, my frontal lobe barely stood a chance.

The bigger issue was that I booked it before fully arranging it with…literally anybody.

A confidence move. A reckless move. A little bit of both.

Originally, this trip was supposed to be with Patrick. Then we broke up, so the plans shifted. I invited my sister and brother-in-law instead, but then Ryan started classes. Suddenly it became a girls trip with me, Mom, Jessie, Kira, Evie, and Ellie.

Then Ryan ended up joining us anyway.

So before we even left the driveway, this trip had already gone through about four different versions of itself.

Which honestly should have been my first warning.

To make things even more chaotic, I had arrived over an hour early while Mom and Jessie were running more than an hour late.

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Flower Fields, Tiny Dictators, & a Sky Full of Betrayal

Our first stop was Old Mission Flowers because apparently I romanticize my own suffering and thought flower picking with two toddlers by myself sounded peaceful.

To be fair, it was peaceful at first.

The drive up was gorgeous. Sunny skies. Good music. Everybody cautiously optimistic. The kind of mood where you start thinking, “Maybe this trip is going to heal me emotionally.”

And for a few minutes, it actually was really sweet.

Until Evie decided she needed yellow flowers while Ellie became emotionally committed to pink ones…which meant they immediately started wandering in opposite directions through the garden while I stood there trying to keep eyes on both of them at once like a stressed-out NPC in a side quest.

The rain came out of nowhere.

Not gradually either. One second we were picking flowers, the next it looked like somebody dumped a bucket over the entire peninsula.

I grabbed Ellie first and ran her to the little shed where they keep the vases and flower accessories before immediately turning back into the rain for Evie, who had completely frozen in place trying to process why she was suddenly being assaulted by the sky.

By the time I got both girls under cover, we were soaked.

I stood there for a minute trying to decide whether we should wait the storm out or make a run for the car while rain hammered against the roof around us and the girls clutched their flowers like tiny floral war survivors.

Eventually the rain lightened up just enough that I decided to risk it.

So I grabbed the girls and sprinted them to the car through the rain while everything around us looked like the weather gods were actively trying to humble me.

Before we ran out, though, I had already decided to leave the flowers in the shed and come back for them once the rain slowed down a bit.

Evie, however, did not emotionally connect with this plan whatsoever.

That child absolutely lost it over the flowers being left behind, so after getting everyone buckled in, I drove back up to the shed, handed both girls their little cups full of decapitated flower heads, and restored peace to the kingdom.

At that point, I looked at the monsoon happening around me, remembered I had already paid twenty dollars for this experience, and decided I was getting my money’s worth.

So there I was filling my vase in pouring rain while some man—maybe the owner, maybe a gardener—sat in a rocking chair on a nearby porch watching me with the exact expression of someone witnessing a woman completely unravel over flowers.

Honestly? Fair.

Emotional Support Smoothies & the Slow Descent Into Madness

After we left Old Mission Flowers, we made our way back toward Traverse City for emotional support smoothies because after all of that, I deserved one.

Naturally, my card declined in the drive-thru.

Normally that wouldn’t be a huge issue except for the fact that my phone always decides to stop functioning properly when I come up to Traverse City unless I restart it first. I forgot to do that, so while rainwater was actively flooding into my car, I was frantically trying to transfer money between accounts while my phone buffered like it had never met technology before.

At that point, I was one inconvenience away from becoming part of the storm itself.

After smoothies, we parked at Meijer so I could do my therapy session.

The girls spent most of it loose in the car, bouncing around like caffeinated pinballs while I attempted to discuss my mental health with any level of seriousness. At one point, though, we all got distracted watching a family of geese wandering through the parking lot, which honestly ended up being the most grounding part of the session.

Eventually I had to cut therapy short because I was about to pee myself.

So I drove over to Burger King thinking it would be quick and easy.

It was not.

Burger King is right there by Meijer, but the entrance setup was weird and everybody was treating the entrance like an exit only. So now I’m trying to squeeze my way in through with my huge ass Palisade while people drive around like confused NPCs in a low-budget simulation.

Once I finally parked, I jumped out and tried not to pee myself while searching for two missing toddler shoes somewhere in the vehicle.

Finally, I just called my mom, handed the phone to Evie, locked the doors, and sprinted through the rain into Burger King to unleash the fullest bladder I have had in months.

After surviving that ordeal, I ran into Meijer for snacks, and finally—finally—we checked into Great Wolf Lodge Traverse City.

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Great Wolf Lodge & the Humbling of a Single Mother

By the time we finally made it to Great Wolf Lodge Traverse City, I was already exhausted.

Since I was alone with the girls, I couldn’t use the unloading zone and leave the car unattended, so I parked as close to the entrance as I could and started orchestrating what can only be described as a single-mother obstacle course in the pouring rain.

I jumped out, extended the luggage handle, looped grocery bags onto it, picked up Ellie, let Evie out, and started pleading with her to follow me into the hotel.

Unfortunately, Evie had become absolutely enchanted by the rain.

So while I was carrying half our belongings and one toddler, she kept stopping dramatically in the parking lot to experience the weather like she was in a coming-of-age movie.

Eventually we made it inside completely soaked and immediately started getting comments from strangers like, “Look at that mama doing it all.”

Which honestly upset me more than people probably realize.

Because sometimes those comments don’t feel empowering. Sometimes they just feel like confirmation that people can visibly see you struggling alone.

We finally got to the check-in desk cold, dripping wet, and looking like survivors of a maritime disaster only for me to remember that hotels love surprising you with hidden fees at the exact worst possible moment.

An extra charge for another adult.
A parking fee.
A $100 incidental hold.

Suddenly my cheap little flash-sale getaway was holding a knife to my throat financially.

I had maybe fourteen dollars in my bank account, and Huntington still wasn’t letting me overdraft. I tried running my card anyway because sometimes blind optimism is all you have left.

Declined.

At that point, I explained that the rest of my party was supposed to be there soon and asked what I was supposed to do in the meantime.

The answer?
Sit and wait.

So there I stood in the lobby soaking wet with two exhausted little girls, perishables in my bags, and tears threatening to spill while I called my mom asking if she could send me the money. Jessie said she might be able to.

I was trying very hard to hold it together externally, but internally I was crashing hard.

Finally, I just looked at the woman at the desk and basically begged her to let us into the room and promised we’d pay within the hour once my family arrived.

Thankfully, she took mercy on me and checked us in anyway.

The second we got into the room, survival mode kicked in.

Wet clothes off.
Heat turned on.
Girls wrapped in blankets.

All three of us ended up snuggled together trying to thaw out while we waited for everyone else to arrive.

Once Mom, Jessie, and Kira arrived, we handled the rest of the balance and finally made our way down to the water park.

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Bikini Tops, Chlorine, & the Ongoing Evolution of My Self-Esteem

First of all, younger me would be absolutely floored to know that one day I’d willingly walk around a water park in a bikini top without spiraling into self-consciousness.

Yet there I was sporting my brand new top from Goth Cloth Co. without a care in the world.

Honestly? Character development.

The girls, unsurprisingly, inherited my obsession with water.

They absolutely lived for the wave pool, the slides, the splashing, the chaos…all of it.

Eventually Ellie hit her limit and wanted to head back to the room, so we peeled off while Mom stayed behind with Evie, who apparently intended to extract every possible second of value from those wristbands because they stayed until the water park literally shut the water off.

Back in the room, me, Ellie, Jessie, and Kira changed into dry warm clothes before heading downstairs to grab pizza against Ellie’s very strong preference to simply pass away into sleep immediately.

Once we got back upstairs, the kids absolutely crashed.

Meanwhile Jessie stayed up waiting for Ryan to arrive, and I attempted to keep her company even though I now realize I was already fighting off the early stages of whatever virus eventually took me out later.

At the time, though, I just thought I was insanely tired from our eventful day.

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Cooing Babies, Capitalism, & Arcade-Level Price Gouging

The next morning started softly.

Kira woke up first just cooing to herself while Ellie slowly woke up nearby and stared at her cousin with the sweetest little smile on her face.

Before long, the girls had wandered off to play together which eventually woke Evie up too, and then one by one the adults slowly started resurfacing from the dead.

There was a debate about paying another fifty dollars for late checkout so the kids could swim longer.

I was mostly indifferent because I already had plans around noon, but everyone else voted yes because apparently nobody in this family understands the concept of moderation when water is involved.

Before swimming, we wandered down to the arcade for a bit where Great Wolf Lodge continued its long-standing tradition of charging approximately seventeen thousand dollars per game.

At one point, I volunteered to run upstairs for snacks and drinks which somehow also cost the GDP of a small nation.

I ended up taking a quiet minute to myself outside the arcade eating my very expensive sandwich in silence, which honestly felt spiritually necessary at that point.

Eventually everyone headed back upstairs to change into swimsuits and go swimming again. I stayed dressed since I was leaving soon, but I did run down to the pool area for a while to help keep eyes on the kids.

That actually worked out perfectly because Ellie eventually got tired and wanted a nap, so I brought her upstairs and got her settled before heading out.

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Haunted Mall Energy, Sparrow Assaults, & the Lingering Scent of 2007

My old buddy Tom picked me up and we headed over to Full Send Ramen for lunch.

While waiting for our food, we wandered around where I was suddenly attacked by a sparrow.

And by attacked, I mean that bird fully bounced off my head before flying up into a nearby tree to scream at me from above like we had unresolved personal issues.

Naturally, I blamed my first ex-husband.

Sending his birds after me from afar apparently.

After lunch, we wandered down Front Street just catching up and talking. From there, we made a full walking loop through downtown Traverse City—starting where we parked on Boardman, wandering onto Front Street, heading down toward Union, then looping back around on State Street before reconnecting to Boardman again.

Along the route, we stopped into Espresso Bay for coffee before continuing our little nostalgia tour through downtown.

Honestly, it felt less like intentionally following a route and more like letting muscle memory guide us around the city.

Once we got back to his Jeep, we made our way down to Clinch Park and walked all the way out to “the flagpole,” getting absolutely assaulted by flies along the way.

Eventually, storm clouds started rolling in again, so Tom basically decided I had spent enough time standing near giant bodies of water during questionable weather conditions and forcibly removed me from the shoreline for safety reasons.

We then decided to head over to Grand Traverse Mall to wander around for a bit.

That mall feels haunted.

Not dangerous haunted.
Early-2000s ghost haunted.

Half empty storefronts. Weird silence. The lingering feeling that somewhere nearby a Claire’s employee is still piercing ears in low-rise jeans.

Honestly, though, it was kind of fun walking around trying to remember what stores used to be where. We both kept unlocking random memories from the part of our brains reserved for mall culture and MySpace era trauma.

Also…does anybody else remember what Abercrombie & Fitch used to smell like?

Because somehow that scent still exists in there. Like the store front itself absorbed 2007 and never let it go.

At one point we wandered past these absolutely insane pontoon boats priced around ninety thousand dollars because apparently somebody out there is living very differently than I am.

We also did a lap around Target because no emotionally significant day is complete without aimlessly wandering Target for a little while.

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Fish Pics, Fettuccine, & the Northern Michigan Deer Olympics

I was supposed to meet up with my first ex-husband around 5 PM, so eventually Tom took me back to my car still parked at the Great Wolf Lodge.

As I was getting ready to hop out of the car, though, he managed to accidentally trigger me in the funniest possible way.

We were talking about Tinder dating profiles when he joked that I should take a picture holding a fish.

Instant psychological damage.

Guys, respectfully…I would genuinely rather see your unsolicited dick pics than another dead fish profile photo at this point.

Put the fish away.

Why are we all pretending women are scrolling dating apps thinking, “Wow. Look at him gripping that bass. What a provider.”

No.

Absolutely not.

I ended up fashionably late to dinner with my first ex-husband at Olive Garden which prompted him to immediately say, “Wouldn’t be you if you weren’t late.”

Oh hush.

We ordered our mutual comfort food—Chicken Tortellini Alfredo—and ended up sitting there talking and catching up for like four or five hours.

There’s something strangely comforting about people who knew you in completely different versions of your life.

Not even romantically.
Just historically.

People who remember old apartments, old playlists, old personalities, old dreams.

Sometimes those conversations feel less like catching up and more like opening a time capsule.

Then the drive home was genuinely terrifying.

I already hate driving at night, but Northern Michigan apparently decided to unleash every deer in existence directly onto the roads that evening.

I don’t remember seeing that many deer back when I lived up there, but maybe motherhood just adds a fresh layer of paranoia to the experience.

At one point I was fully convinced I was going to hit one.

And of course this would happen immediately after I raised my insurance deductibles because the universe loves comedic timing.

To make matters worse, I was fighting exhaustion hard. Like dangerously hard.

There were a couple moments where I caught myself drifting into that terrifying almost-asleep feeling behind the wheel and immediately had to snap myself back awake.

Thankfully, Patrick stayed on the phone with me for almost the entire three-hour drive trying to keep me conscious and entertained until I finally made it home alive.

Until next time TC 🫶