Do you call your mother-in-law “Mum”? Are you absolutely sure who your real mother is?
Every time I hear someone referring to their mother-in-law as “Mummy,” I get goosebumps. Not because I’m mean or jealous—but because that word is sacred to me. You can’t just hand it out like spare change. A mum isn’t just a woman who became your relative through a marriage certificate. A mum is the one who raised you, lost sleep over you, wept in frustration, but still got up in the morning and kept fighting for you.
I have a close friend—Emily. We’ve been mates since we were kids—she was my bridesmaid, and I’ve been her guest (and witness) at all three of her weddings. We’ve been through it all, and despite life, kids, and moving halfway across the country, we’ve stuck together. I often joke, *“Alright, Em, shall we wait till the kids are off to uni and then hit the club scene once we’re retired?”*
The other day, I popped round to hers as a favour—dropping off medicine from the chemist since her car was in the shop. As I handed her the bag, she nodded and said, *“Oh, it’s not for me. It’s for Mum—she’s not well.”*
I smiled, wandered into the kitchen, and—completely out of habit—blurted, *“Hello, Aunt Beatrice! How are you feeling?”*
Then the woman turned to face me, and I realised—this wasn’t her mum. This was the mother of her third husband. Her mother-in-law. And yet, Emily was calling her “Mummy.” Just like she had with all the previous ones.
I remembered how it had gone with the first two. With her first husband, William, she started calling his mother “Mum” from day one.
*“Have you lost the plot?”* I hissed in her ear. *“You don’t even know her! She’s not your mother!”*
Emily just grinned. *“It’s strategy. She’ll like it. She’ll accept me. And Will will be happy. Simple.”*
Except that “Mum” later stabbed her in the back. When William would stumble home drunk at dawn or vanish for days, and Emily would call, the woman would sigh and say, *“What do you expect, love? A man’s got his limits…”*
Two years later—divorce. They had a child, but none of the so-called “mums” ever showed the slightest interest in their grandkid. Or Emily.
With the second husband, things were different. That mother-in-law immediately took a stand: *“This boy’s not your responsibility. Pack him off to a children’s home if you like. We’ve no money for him.”*
And still, Emily called her “Mum.” Until she realised that behind that word was nothing but cold-hearted cruelty. They split up—thankfully, no kids this time.
Now, she’s on her third marriage, and the cycle repeats. The same sweet words. The same naive hope that a “Mummy” here and there will melt the woman into family.
But it doesn’t work.
I know what I’m talking about. I have a mother-in-law too. And we don’t just *get along*—we genuinely respect each other. We can talk heart-to-heart, share a laugh, pick blackberries together, or debate the latest telly drama. But we call each other by our first names. And that doesn’t stop us from being closer than some actual family.
Because “Mum” isn’t a title you use for advantage. It’s like a medal—it has to be earned. You can’t buy it with compliments or win it over a cuppa. A real mum isn’t the woman who walked into your life with a husband. It’s the one who walked in—and stayed.
Yes, sometimes a mother-in-law does become closer than your own mother. It happens. But that’s the exception—not the rule.
So when I hear:
*“Mum, would you like some tea?”*
*“Mummy, how are you feeling today?”*
I can’t help but wonder—is that love? Or just a habit of pretending?
