Review: Jump Park #chattanoogajump

I know there are naysayers and other negative nellies out there who will tell you that trampoline parks are huge liabilities to your back and are super spendy and are just incubators for Peter Pan Syndrome. And they are probably all right. For a funaholic like yours truly, though, I just cannot get enough of a Whole Warehouse Space Full of Trampoline. I had been to one before in Boston where you had to wear ghastly jumping shoes (yack!) but I'm so excited that we now have one in our Chattytown. And at Jump Park #CHA you can go barefoot!

My little man and I mounted a Friday morning trip last week and we had so much fun. The facility is clean (should be, they just opened), spacious, and nicely lit. The staff was quite helpful and friendly. There were about 20 people there at 11a on Friday and there were two "referees" on the trampoline floor, which seemed adequate (though I am not versed in the Tennessee Trampoliner Safety Guard per capita rules and regs).

This was my favorite ref guy:

Trampolining begins at the top of the hour when the refs go over the rules (Thou shalt only be one person on one trampo-square at a time). You have one hour until they call you off and it's pretty much plenty of time for the wee people in my life to get adequately trampo-cised.

Here's the pricing model. I like that they're not trying to punish parents of small children since they know we are going to spend most of our time taking crappy smartphone photos of our kids in mid-jump. Wait, what?

There appeared to be party rooms and there is a little cafe and a cubby/locker room area. Parking is on street (about a block from Finney Stadium) for now and was free but there appears to be some more lot space coming soon.

Before you go, be sure to sign the waiver online. Then you'll be all set to go and throw out your back when you get there with no one to blame for it. Hahah. Jokes.

Let me know if you go!

Now you know someone who has stayed at one of those Christmas-all-year-round places

...so go ahead and snicker. What can I say? Spring break found us packing for a 2-nite slumberjam at the Inn at Christmas Place in Pigeon Forge.

It gets worse.

We used a Groupon. Nothing says, "You should have partied in Daytona when you were able instead of going on all those community service trips in college" like using a Groupon on your hotel as your family of four drives NORTH in a station wagon for spring break and doesn't even cross state lines. Just pass me those mom jeans because I've got the turtleneck all ready.

The hotel itself is remarkable, though, you guys. And remark we did.

"Wow, that's kind of creepy that they wish you a merry Christmas upon entering."

"I wonder if the hotelier ever gets sick of saying that the free cookies at bedtime were made by Santa."

There were other remarks made, though, and the majority of them quite positive.

"The decore in this place is the amaze-biz."

"The breakfast was pretty much boss."

"Is it wrong that I want to stay here again?"

I don't know that we would have stayed here if not for the Groupon as it was part of Baby Girl's extended birthday present. I am honestly glad that we did, though, because the weather was crappy the whole time so the hotel itself was enough of a novelty to the kizzle (and the novelty of cable TV allowed us grown-ups --who never went to Daytona--to watch the Oscars). For around $110/night, we got a fairly spacious room with 2 queen beds, an amazing breakfast, and full use of the game room, indoor pool, and exercise room. Across the street is a fabulous Christmas store (think Bronner's but not quite as epic) with every kind of holiday ornamentation imaginable.

The staff at the Inn were excellent in their helpfulness. One night we walked out the main entrance and just thought we'd amble and try to find a restaurant within walking distance. Both of the doormen asked us if we were headed to dinner and if they could suggest some places. They even went to the trouble of grabbing some extra coupons for us. A+ for hospitality.

The best part of the stay was totally unanticipated, though. Thanks to the stalker capabilities of social media, we discovered that our good mates the Ramoses from Michigan had ventured down to Gatlinburg parts! So we got to crash their pizza party and the kizzle binge-watched Wild Kratts while the grown-ups--who were glad they were not in Daytona because oldness--had a gabfest like we do.

Give a shout if you're ever in the market for a Christmas in July vacay. Or April. Or September. It's totally still Christmas in Pigeon Forge, TN. Here are some pictures to tempt you or convince you that staying at a hotel not dedicated to a major holiday is advisable.

***

Inn at Christmas Place

The craze-biz two-story glockenspiel

All the hotel landings had these unique displays. Our floor's was "A Christmas Story," appropos for the girl from Cleveland (wherein the film was shot)

Breakie Room

Game Room

Exercise Room

Indoor Pool

Outdoor Pool

Bonus: Couchtime with the Ramoses Baby Girl's future husband is pictured somewhere here, as are Little Man's groomsmen

Evil Cookies

On Friday, we made good on a promise to Baby Girl to visit American Girl (AG) in Atlanta. It is good that we have to drive 2 hours to AG because I am all in favor of the way AG encourages girls to be active and pursue hobbies, but the fact that the doll hair salon was booked solid during a weekday and the doll hairstyles at the doll salon were $25 (which is more than I pay for my real breathing human being kids whose hair actually grows to get their hairs cut) just doesn't sort of sit well with me. Millions of kids won't have enough for dinner tonight but Fancy Nancy's doll got a new tiara. Alas, this is neither here nor there.

The real thrust of this story is how we went to Atlanta on Friday and en route, we stopped at McDonald's drive-thru for an orange juice. I know. Very tall order. I felt pangs of mom guilt for not ordering something for the kids in the backseat, however, and the thought occurred to me that those boxes of McD's cookies that I remember from my childhood would not be the worst car snack ever.

I asked the drive-thru attendant if they still sold those boxes of cookies.

"Yes we sell them. Totes," he said, which I thought was an uncharacteristically casual answer, even for a drive-thru operator at McDonald's. It tickled me so. "Totes," he said. Like Totes Magotes.

But then my tab came to $6 and I was all Blue Ivy with my hands. Like, no sir. An OJ and a box of cookies DO NOT cost six moneys.

At the first window, I saw my receipt and I saw that Totes was actually referring to the receptacle in which the cookies would be delivered. Okay. So I suppose I should be used to the rate of inflation and the space age packaging, seeing as the last time I bought these cookies was clearly 1989, using a variety of dimes and pennies from my grandpa's ashtray.

The second window attendant asked me if I could pull over to the parking space #1 because the cookies weren't quite ready yet. And I was all, what is going on here? Do you have to hand-select them for the totes? What is fast about this fast food?!

Ding went the bell, though, and the 2nd window attendant said, "Oh, they're done. Do you want 13 or 14 cookies?"

This was a HUGE question of economy here. I mean, do I go with the lucky 13 or the pleasantly even cookie census? Wait, who chooses LESS cookies when given an option by Ronald??

Then the attendant handed me the most geometrically pleasing tote full of warm, ooey-McGooey chocolate chip goodness.

I ate 2.

The kids each at 3.

I then got my first speeding ticket in the South.

I ate the rest of the cookies. Those cookies are pure evil.

Glad we got that extra one.