About Ms. Takes By the Lake

Why Ms. Takes By the Lake? Well, I love the lake, and I often laughingly find myself realizing I have taken on something with my kids (ehem, Robsgiving, I'm looking at you) that perhaps a sane person would have run screaming from.

The hail storm of 2023.

One of the best moments of 'Robsgiving' was this thing, that the baby kept pointing at and saying "cute."

Zippy saving 'Robsgiving' one hug at a time.

Ms. Takes By the Lake is a play on "Mistake on the Lake," which was originally an insult about Cleveland (I believe), and eventually an insult for my alma mater, Cleveland State University. I always rebelled against the idea that Cleveland was a mistake or that Cleveland wasn't cool. Maybe that's why I wrote for CoolCleveland.com for a number of years (and still recommend it - if you don't get their emails, go sign up).

Cleveland and Akron (my newer city obsession), are the best of many things. They are gritty and real, but also full of beauty and idealism. They have incredible resources, parks and toepaths, scenic railroads and opportunity to grow. We're an old steel and rubber region in the rust belt with some of the most incredible arts organizations in the world. What's not to love?

Back to Ms. Takes. There's a bit of a double entrende in the name for me. First, these are my "takes" about local things I have fallen in love with (and obviously beach glassing is a big one). But, I also make a lot of adventuring mistakes. These usually involve taking my children into circumstances that I later regret.

One quick story (or two) to introduce what I'll likely often be writing about:

The Hail Storm of 2023

In early 2023, I started taking all four kids to the beach (yikes). The first time I took all four, I slipped carrying Zoey while chasing the other three up the stairs to the beach, and she hit her head on a rock. So - already not going very well.

The second time, it was an unseasonably warm February day. I planned ahead. I took a little umbrella stroller that I would literally have to carry to the spot the kids liked to play down by the shore at Rocky River Beach. The stroller couldn't go down the stairs to the beach, nor could it survive the rocky ravine that serves as a makeshift ramp. I carried Zoey down in one arm and the stroller in the other.

I put Zoey in the stroller and carried it all the way down the beach, over and around the giant leaf piles you see off to the left. They had washed in from the lake all throughout January, and were big, spongey piles of decomposing leaves. I finally got to our favorite spot to play and look for glass, and parked the stroller. It was sunny and sparkly - for about 20 minutes. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a huge wind swept us, and a massive hail storm descended upon us. I had an umbrella in the stroller, but it was no match for the whipping winds.

Here's what I wrote on the day: "Can you see that tiny rainbow in the big cloud on the right? In person it was much more vibrant. It felt like a little apology from the universe for the hail storm that made a 15-minute appearance while I was down on the beach with Zoey in an umbrella stroller stuck in the sand with a tiny umbrella that was instantly inverted by the wind. Jamie and Galen were huddled underneath with me and Zoey and all children were sobbing or screaming in terror - for 15 minutes. Hazel abandoned us to find shelter. Before and after it was sunny. 🤦‍♀️ It did drop 15 degrees or so though."

When I say we were being pounded by the hail, I mean we were being pounded. The rain was definitely sideways. I don't actually think it was 15 minutes, looking back, but it felt like hours. Hazel had run up the stairs and taken shelter under the pirateship playground, and I was both worried about whether or not she was surviving the insanity, as well as trying to calm the absolute panic attacks happening inside my bear hug.

That's the kind of misadventure that Ms. Takes by the Lake is all about. I post lots of pretty photos of the lake and the sunsets, but really, most of my trips to the lake or any other "fun" location are part joy and part disaster. I mention Robsgiving in the subhead. Robertson Dining Hall is University of Akron's main all-you-can-eat dining location. They hold an annual Thanksgiving feast and my kids LOVE Rob's. The big ones at least.

So, I said - ok, I'll take them to Rob's. It's ok that my husband won't be home, and it's ok that I know it's going to be a madhouse. Cue none of the children liking the food because there wasn't the usual pizza available (even though the turkey was top 10 in my life), little man spilling his drink everywhere, a forty minute line to get in and another ten minute line to get food. I mean - bad life choice right there. How could I have ever expected that to be anything other than a complete nightmare?

I guess hope springs eternal?

Which leads me to a question I often get:

How do you do it?

Or the statement - "I don't know how you do it."

This is a question that I get asked frequently by other parents, colleagues, my therapist (never my mom... ha ha). It often comes after someone learns I have four children under age ten, two of which are toddlers, on top of my full-time job, my kid's activities and my own creative endeavors.

My standard answer is: "Not that well."

Don't get me wrong, this isnt humility or self-deprecation. It's just the truth, plain and simple. Not that well.

Then I always add, "but, I keep trying."

I am, in fact, trying. There are lots of people to keep happy. My husband, my kids, my mom, my in-laws, my coworkers, my supervisors... myself? It's a lot of effort and a lot of running around and half the time I'm late, I don't have what I need with me, I can't remember where I left my wallet. Where is my wallet? My wallet has my key in it, so I can't start the car till I find it.

I call myself a disaster human regularly, and again, that's not self-deprecation. It's more of a declaration of how I feel when I compare myself to all of the people around me. I feel like I'm barely hanging on. I feel a lot of guilt about how I spend my time even though I'm doing my best. So, that's just to explain the message in the bottle above.

I'm human, and painfully so. I hope that makes my writing on this site, whatever that ends up including, a little bit more relatable.

If you haven't found it in an entry on the website already, I am a recently diagnosed neurodivergent person. I don't know how the diagnosis evaded me for so long, because all of the signs were there. I recently saw a meme that said that ADHD people use parentheses in their writing so often that it's like every sentence has its own bonus content. That made me laugh out loud because truly, the way my brain works, every thought has bonus content too.

So, if you are ND, welcome. You'll probably like it here. I find that we are a magnet for people like us.

Why am I starting Ms. Takes?

I very much enjoy my work as a professor, and I love working with my students, but lately I've realized that my writing itch isn't being scratched. I find myself so tempted to jump in there with my students, who I am teaching to write, that maybe it's time for me to get back into it.

I'm not trying to create a media empire here, or to be an influencer. I'm just trying to share some of the neat things I come across. Of course, you'll get it in my overly-wordy (bonus content included) style. If something here helps you or inspires you, please feel free to let me know. If you google my name (Julie Cajigas) you'll find about 19 different ways to reach me.

I'm sure I will eventually start social channels for this website. But, I have to do all of this in between momming four kids under age 10 and my full-time job, so I make no promises on my consistency or quality.

So I guess that's the scoop on Ms. Takes by the Lake for now. Enjoy!

Above and Right: The day we inadvertently witnessed a huge steel barge boat dock in the harbor near Wendy Park and Whiskey Island. I was bent down looking in the stones for glass when I saw a huge group of people had gathered on shore with tripods and cameras. I turned to see this massive, massive boat. Little man was playing and didn't even notice the giant approaching vessel until I said something. We both watched it so long we were late to pick up the big kids.

We also dabble in astronomy misadventures quite frequently. The above photo was taken at Observatory Park in Montville, Ohio during the Leonid meteor shower. It was 30 degrees at 12:50 a.m. and the park shut its lights off before the 1 a.m. close time while we were still stargazing. This caused my daughter to freak out.

My littlest watching the kayakers on a brisk early winter day. Moments like this are worth the hassle and the sand in the van. So much sand.

This photo was from an evening in November when the Aurora Borealis was potentially visible. I DID NOT want to go out that evening, but the kids insisted. With the long exposure camera I caught a small greenish halo in my photos. Otherwise, it was just a beautifully starry night in Cuyahoga Valley National Park. Both kids looked at the sky for about two minutes, then fell asleep in the car while I took photos like a weirdo.

Page updated

Google Sites

Report abuse