Abbey's Road: In an era of chicken moms, be a chicken aunt. It's the best of both worlds

I’m not sure what happened to millennial women that all of a sudden, they have made the collective decision to become chicken moms.

Was it the pioneering spirit absorbed through their skin whilst playing "The Oregon Trail"? Leveling up their COVID-era homesteading game from sourdough starter to microfarming? An impulse buy at Tractor Supply that now is a part-time job … er, hobby?

Maybe chickens are just cute? (I haven’t looked at one up close in awhile. I just know they’re the closest living relative to a Tyrannosaurus rex. Shrug.)

I can’t answer these questions because, to be clear, I’m not a chicken lady. I might be one of the only ones left, and that is OK with me.

Can’t say it hasn’t crossed my mind, but we live on a postage-stamp property that I’ve crowded with too many plants, and there are hawks and stray cats and house cats who are regular Houdinis, and I don’t feel prepared to explain this turn of events to my children.

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“Mom, why are there feathers in Sherlock’s mouth, and why has Cluck Norris been sleeping in the same place for so long with his legs up in the air?”

Thankfully, it doesn’t matter because I have no intentions of becoming "Chicken Mom."

Instead, I’ve settled for the title of "Chicken Aunt."

What, you may wonder, is a chicken aunt? So glad you asked.

A chicken aunt does not have chickens of her own. She is too cheap and lazy and suburbanite for that.

Instead, she cheers on her chicken-mom friends and shares Instagram reels with them that feature women playing the piano with chickens on their head and crochets chicken outfits that would be so cute and things that people add to their chicken coops to make them fancy.

Chicken aunts occasionally go to visit the chickens (they never invite the chickens over; that would be ridiculous) and talk to them and pet them and maybe even give them a treat, then go home so that the chicken mom can do the poop scooping or whatever else it is that chicken moms do.

So sort of like a grandma but without having to buy a bunch of stuff.

While it should never be their ulterior motive, chicken aunts often reap the benefits of chickens (“Here, take some eggs when you go!”) without having to do any of the hard work. It’s a really great setup.

Good chicken aunts will think of other ways to thank the chicken moms in their life, by paying them in handmade gifts or words of encouragement or occasional offers for chicken-sitting while the chicken mom and her supportive partner are away on a much-needed vacation to a quiet, sandy beach.

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Being a chicken aunt has been a great experience, and while I am still becoming accustomed to the concept of leaving unwashed eggs out on the counter — which violates at least a handful of principals instilled during my suburbanite upbringing — I appreciate knowing that the omelet I am eating for breakfast came from Yolko Ono, Amelia Egghart and Kelly Cluckson. All of whom I could hop into my minivan and go to thank personally at any time.

I can’t take credit for most of those names — my good friend is a proud chicken mom to Kelly Cluckson — but the internet is a great source for naming your brood if that’s your thing.

I love when my chicken lady friends will tell me stories of the latest drama from the coop, and I feel like as an aunt, I have gotten to know the quirks and fun facts about all of these feathery personalities. If you find that your life is lacking zest, I fully recommend becoming a chicken aunt (or uncle); it’s way better than Facebook drama and at the end of the day, there are less hurt feelings.

All told, there are worse ways millennial moms could be spending their time. Being outdoors and putting in the hard work to care for creatures that will provide for them is a worthy pursuit, and I am super proud of all the chicken moms in my life who have decided that this will be how they spend their midlife crisis. Motorcycles and yachts don’t lay eggs, after all.

Me? I’ll just keep stopping by to say hi and give them a pat on the back.

Because, as it turns out, chicken aunting is, indeed, everything it’s cracked up to be.

(Please don’t cancel your subscription, I’ll do better I promise.)

Abbey Roy is a mom of three girls who make every day an adventure. She writes to maintain her sanity. You can probably reach her at amroy@nncogannett.com, but responses are structured around bedtimes and weekends.

This article originally appeared on Newark Advocate: Abbey's Road: As chicken aunts, millennial women reap benefits