Armed

I wanted to take a picture of my arms so you could have a visual to go with this post, but it didn't turn out. No, they haven't turned all muscular and Linda Hamilton-y. {Remember Terminator 2 (or 3?) when she was doing the pull ups in the insane asylum and pumping her shotgun one handed?} Arms like that would require actual muscle sculpting type exercises so obviously that is out. What I wanted to show you was the inside of my forearms with their red scratches and purple bruises... that are totally Rio and Rylee's fault!

Rio versus the UPS Guy
The Problem:
1) Rio despises men who deliver us packages (maybe because none of them are ever for her?).
2) We get deliveries several times a week since Jon has all his work crap sent here (in an attempt to not hassle with Big M's shipping and receiving procedures) and shops online for all his aquarium and hunting supplies (in an effort to save us time and money I suppose).
3) These deliveries are timed perfectly to ensure that they occur right in the middle of Rylee's nap! For some reason or another, waking up an hour early to a dog going bat-crap crazy makes Rylee less than cheerful. I'm not even going to mention what it does to my mood.

The Solution:
Over the last several months, the UPS Guy and I have worked out a "solution." He beeps his horn when he's a half a block away from our house, giving me just enough time to drop whatever I'm doing, run like a crazy person to the door, scoop up Rio, and get her outside before she launches into her attack.

While this allows Rylee to sleep through Rio's insanity, it's not pleasant for me. I have to hold this writhing, barking, foaming, growling, razor-clawed beast in my arms while we make the package exchange and stupid computer pad scribble signing (it looks like a gorilla signed my name whether I'm trying to write nicely or not so why they even bother is beyond me). By the time I come inside, my left arm has been torn to shreds from wrist to elbow.

What I really want is for the UPS Guy to change his route to accommodate me. Is that too much to ask?! I'm friendly, nice, and usually well-groomed at that hour of the day (I can't say the same for the Fed Ex guy who caught me with my hair all askew, black makeup smudges under my eyes and wearing my furry pink bathrobe with the monkey faces on it - I swear I was literally stepping into the shower when he rang the door bell). Since the above plan doesn't seem all that feasible, I'm thinking of investing in one of those leather gloves the animal handlers wear when they have a giant-taloned bird on their arm. Or possibly giving Rio a large dose of tranquilizers every day at noon...

Rylee versus Me!
The Problem:
Rylee's toddler 'tude is in full force (every other weekday and on alternating weekends). The hair pulling is impressive. I've only previously witnessed that kind of "I'm not letting go no matter what" tenacity during some junior high girl fights. But it's the biting that has my arms all-a-purple!

It usually occurs when I'm reaching across her to pick her up (and drag her to the naughty chair). She turns her little head and bites that delicate area of wrist flesh preferred primarily by toddlers and vampires.

The Solution:
I'm not sure. I've considered carrying her only by her ankles (or her neck) - just kidding! - or am I? :) Do they make baby straight jackets? Not that I could get her in one anyway. I mean all those buckles to fasten? I can barely get the two velcro pieces on her diaper closed! Ahh, the joys of parenthood...


**The extent of Rylee's tantrums may have been exaggerated for post humor - emphasis on "may." It depends on which alternating day you talk to me! :)