A battle in the urban jungle

Today I am going to tell you a story about a photoframe. How dull, you might be thinking. What on earth could I possibly have to say about putting a few photos in a frame that could be remotely interesting? My innate knack for making even the most ordinary and straightforward things extraordinarily complicated means the photo frame in question is actually much more than a wall hanging. It is a trophy of yet another battle I forged - and won - in the urban jungle. A reminder that sometimes it is the destination that matters. That some journeys are best forgotten.   

Mr G has just celebrated a milestone birthday. A few weeks ago, after already organising my own gift for him, I decided that a frame with a few snaps of three of his biggest fans would be a great present from our girls. Despite putting this suggestion to them weeks in advance neither took any initiative in getting the project off the ground so I was left to do the legwork. C'est le vie. 

One of my lovely friends is a big fan of both the NABM girls and was kind enough to offer to be our photographer for the morning. Aside from being a finance whiz, a doctor in training and a wedding-cake-maker, this friend is also quite talented behind a camera. So off we went to her place dressed in pale pink one morning. The photo-shoot was a lot of fun and despite some terrible weather and two occasionally reluctant subjects it was a roaring success. So roaring in fact that choosing which images to frame became quite onerous.

All of this was done in plenty of time for Mr G's birthday. At least it would have been if I wasn't me. Because whilst I've had three decades to familiarise myself with my various foibles it's obviously not been enough time for me to actually conquer them. Identify them? Easily. Overcome them? Not yet. It's true that I'm not a disorganised person but I am also not super orderly. In fact I have an annoying tendency to ensure I am never too organised. (Which I realise is an oxymoron to certain members of the population).

The best example of this tendency is literally academic. At uni I never submitted an assignment late but I never got one in early either. I always did the preparation early enough; I researched weeks ahead, printed off the relevant articles, photocopied various books so I had all the material ready to go. But I could never bring myself to commence writing - not even one word - until I had just enough time to complete it. No pressure, no game. And the thing is because that method works, mostly, I sort of stick to it. Not intentionally but it seems to be the way things pan out.

And so it was with my photo project. The images were there, I had created shortlists of all my favourite images and divided them into colour, black and white, portrait and landscape. The heavy lifting was done but I deliberated about the choice for more than a week. I concluded a multi-frame was the only way to go but then deliberated for several more days about which to choose first; the frame or the photos. After several unsuccessful shopping trips, two days before Mr G's birthday, I finally chose one. I took it home picked my images for each of the six shapes and took them off to be printed. If I had been more organised I should have thought to do all of this online. But, of course, I didn't. I like going up against time.

I put the images on a USB and went to my local Westfield. This was a day where my budding Al Qaeda representative was in daycare so with Miss L snoozing in her pram this was a relatively civilised exercise. Well, it would have been. Sadly my USB didn't work so I had to go home and put them on another one. I returned later that afternoon but their computers didn't appreciate my new USB either. One guy behind the counter was nice enough to try it on his machine and it worked so he printed them off. I collected them straight from the press and then raced to pick up my favourite terrorist. By the time the small people were tucked into bed that night Mr G was home from work so I had to wait until the next day to put the photos in the frame.

I waited until both girls were snoozing at lunchtime on Friday before getting to work. And, wouldn't you know it, one of the photos had lines through it. Big, ugly, thick lines. And naturally it was the only photo I had printed in that size. I realised a mad dash to the photo shop was in order. Oh well, I thought to myself, it's one photo so I will be in and out quickly. Naturally enough - because I actually had something to do - both girls had massive sleeps which is almost always welcome. Except when their crazy mother has a project to complete.

So. Perhaps because I am completely insane I trooped to Westfield with both the girls at 4 o'clock on a Friday afternoon. Because of my earlier USB problems I emailed myself single the image I needed so it was on my phone and I took the cable with me. How smart I thought to myself. I got a park very easily but realised as we unloaded that I only had the stroller in the car, not the double pram. In a nod to my possible insanity, I put Miss L in the stroller and let Miss I hold my hand. What could go wrong in ten minutes? Everything. 

When we arrived at the shop and I tried to retrieve the email I discovered the image was so large it wouldn't download from the server to open in my phone. This meant I couldn't save it to my phone which meant I couldn't access it on their machines. I explained my dilemma to one of the sales attendants and politely enquired if I could access their wifi (which was popping up on my phone) to download the image to my phone. No. Absolutely not, they said. I would have to find wifi somewhere else in the centre and I could then email them the image directly. (If only I'd known that when I was at home with a decent internet connection).

I went in search of the Westfield concierge and they said wifi is not available anywhere in the centre, with it being 1985 and all. A man nearby overheard me and pointed me towards the Apple store. All of their computers are online and available to use. So to Apple we went. I quickly logged on, forwarded the email to the shop and headed back down there. My search had led me to three different floors in the complex at this stage and because I had a pram and a wild toddler simply getting from one location to another was a miracle mission.

But we were almost there. I arrived back at the photo shop where the sales assistant told me my email had arrived but they were having trouble retrieving the attachment. She said "The man who looks after the emails is on his break now so you'll have to wait 15 minutes until he gets back." There were four other attendants in the shop but apparently only the man on the break uses the email. Again, with it being 1985 this seemed entirely reasonable. 

At this point Miss I was impersonating an ambulance running around the store simultaneously threatening to break several thousand dollars worth of equipment whilst also compromising the hearing and sanity of everyone nearby. The sensible thing to do at that point would have been leaving. To cut my losses and head home. I had another more significant birthday present for Mr G already wrapped at home and could easily have given him the frame with one streaky image to be replaced in the coming days. But I am not sensible. I am stubborn and a bit insane and wanted  Mr G to open a perfect frame. So I persisted.

Staying in the photo shop whilst we waited was not feasible due to the human ambulance in my company so we went for a wander. I then remembered I hadn't bought Mr G a card from the girls. Again my inclination towards not being too organised came into play here. I had browsed several large card selections in the days previous but resisted buying one in case I saw a better one closer to the day. Yes, David Jones has an awfully comprehensive selection but I think perhaps I should wait until late on a Friday afternoon and try browsing the selection in the company of Miss I. 

So in conclusive proof of my insanity we entered a newsagent. It turns out newsagents are heaven for small children unencumbered by a pram and they are equally hellish for the silly parents who take such toddlers inside.

Miss I: swiping hoards of balloons "Look Mummy b'loons Mummy!!! I like b'loons Mummy. I take all the B'loon homes?"  
Me: [Snatching several packets of balloons back and returning them to the shelves] "No darling, we'll put them back. Just help me choose a card for dad's birthday."
Miss I: "Lollypops!! Look Mummy!! I like lollypops. I take all the lollypops home mummy?"
Me: "No put them back please."
Miss I: "NO!!! Mummy I TAKE LOLLYPOPS!!!"
Me: hissing and wresting several chupa chups from her clenched fists "No, they're all staying in the shop."
Miss I: Finds low open fridge and grabs three water bottles. "Otay Mummy. I like wa-dder bottles, I take all the wa-der bottles my home."
Me: Returning bottles to fridge. "No."

This was followed by shrieking, a moment of floor lying and me grabbing the closest, tackiest, card in the shop whilst also swooping up Miss I. With Miss I in something of a headlock under my arms I handed over an obscene amount of money for the ugly card. "My grand-daughter never lets go of her pram when she's out with her Mummy and baby brother," the sales assistant helpfully informed me. "That's terrific, would you like to swap? This one's going cheap." Amazingly she wasn't interested. 

We returned to the photo shop only to discover the Email Expert was still on his break. Now I know this isn't ideal - promoting less than ideal behaviour and all - but at this point I brought in the big guns for Miss I. I bought her a mini cupcake on the proviso that she sit still until the man returned to the shop to help me. She obliged and with Miss L chilling out watching the world go by in her pram calm prevailed for at least a few minutes. 

When his break was up, the Email Expert materialised and told me I'd have to go back up to Apple and resend the email. Tears were not far from my eyes at this point. Upon learning that the reason for my visit was a faulty photo his shop had printed the day before he finally took pity on me and offered me his computer out the back. If only I'd tried tears earlier...

So the girls and I hustled into the back of the store and Miss I sat at my feet whilst I logged on to Gmail. Just as I pressed send on the image, the computer shut down. "What happened?" the Email man and I asked at the same time. I looked down and realised the little person at my feet had turned the power off at the wall. Oh. Boy. At that very moment Miss L decided to let her presence be known and broke into an impressive and unrelenting cry. Did I mention that it is now 5.45pm on a Friday evening? Dear readers, what was I thinking???

The Email Expert rebooted the computer and was waiting to see if my email had sent. Meanwhile I needed to feed Miss L immediately. I coaxed Miss I into the pram with the promise of a Peppa Pig episode on my phone and started feeding Miss L (as discreetly as possible in case David Koch was anywhere close). Because something had to go right my email had sent before the computer was switched off so by the time I finished feeding Miss L, I had the photo in my hot little hand and was finally ready to go home. 

Fortunately I realised my housekeeper/nanny/chef would be waiting at home with dinner ready so I could just lie down, retire to my private quarters and enjoy a cold glass of wine whilst they fed and bathed my children. AS. IF. I was staring down the hardest part of my day; the feeding, bathing, reading, bedding fiasco on my own with the added benefit of being exhausted and having two super grumpy girls. Fun times!

The good news is twofold. Mr G was totally awestruck when he opened his perfect frame and even more so when I relayed the story of how it came to be. Now it hangs on the wall and it's  not only a lovely visual feast but it's also a trophy. A reminder that like Bear Grylls is a warrior in the wild, I too am a warrior in the urban jungle. Whilst he counters nature's elements, I conquer  urban life's equivalents. (And, not to detract from his feats, but there are times when a stroll through the Amazon seems positively urbane compared to the jungle that is city living with small children.) Bear and I are more similar than we might seem. We both take on tasks that are not altogether necessary, sensible or even enticing. But what seems ridiculous to a passer-by makes sense to Bear and I. Because we know survival against the elements is a wonderful drug.