You've heard me talk about Mama T before and I love her. I really do. I couldn't be more thankful that she is in our lives and caring for Baby A while I'm at work.
This has been a very odd week for me though. Let me give you some background on Mama T.
Mama T is a farm girl. Her parents still have a large farm in North Georgia with pigs and chickens and corn and cows, etc, etc. Mama T grew up chopping heads of chickens, shelling freshly picked beans and cooking freshly slaughtered pigs. This is normal, normal for her.
I could not be more un-farm like. I don't like cows. I like to eat cows. I have no problem with a hunk of beef on my plate or a nice pair of leather gloves. Fine with me. I don't like cows. They unnerve me. It's a long story that involves some childhood trauma at a dairy farm for which my mother still laughs at me.
So, one of her sons has been vising and earlier this week shot a deer with his bow and arrow. Fine. I get hunting. I don't do it. Have no desire to do it and don't really like the taste of deer. But I get it. However, he brought the thing home and dissected it there. In the front yard. And all week there has been a bucket in the front yard with things sticking out of it. Things...It's been a little creepy. Last night I actually had to breakdown and tell my husband about it because it was bugging me. There's a spine. A spine. Sticking out of a bucket. Ewwwww. And a leg, with a hoof. It's just, ewww. That's all I can come up with. Ewww.
I hadn't said anything to Mama T because I know this sort of thing just doesn't even phase her or enter into the thought process of 'maybe this isn't normal'. But hey, I'm in GA, it kind of is normal, sort of. But this morning as I drove up to her house, there was a deer head sitting in the middle of her yard. Looking at me. It was looking at me. An animal had gotten into the bucket of parts and had strewn them across the yard. I got Baby A out of the car and we walked into Mama T's house (Baby A is now walking from the car to the house like a big girl, it warms and breaks my heart all at once) where I looked at Mama T and said:
"There's a deer head in your front yard and it was looking at me."
She laughed, and laughed, and I confessed my wiggy issues all week with the parts sticking out of the bucket. It will be taken care of this weekend and gone by Monday, but, she did have a pretty good laugh at me and my non hunting/farming/blood and guts background.
But still, who drives up to drop their child off at daycare to find themselves looking directly into the eyes of a severed deer head in the front yard. Apparently, I do.