Born to Be My Mum : A Song for the Woman Who Put Her Children First

I wrote “Born to Be My Mum” as a tribute to my mum while she is still here to hear it.

That matters to me. I wanted to put these feelings into words while I can still speak to her, still hear her laugh, still ask how she is and still receive the same answer she has given me for years.

“I’m wonderful.”

She says it even when I can see that she is struggling. She says it when she is in obvious pain. She says it because that is who she is. She does not want me worrying about her. She would rather reassure me than admit how difficult things feel.

I know that phrase is not always the whole truth. I also know it is one of the many ways she has spent her life putting her children before herself.

A song about ordinary memories

The song began with small memories.

I remembered asking where we were going. I remembered asking how far it was. I must have asked repeatedly, because one of the lines comes from that familiar pattern of a child wanting to know the destination before the journey had properly started.

My mum would walk with me into town. Sometimes she carried my bag on her back while carrying the responsibility of her children in her heart. That image stayed with me because it says so much about her without needing to explain anything.

There was no grand gesture. No dramatic scene. Just a mum walking into town with her child and making sure he was all right.

That is what I wanted the song to capture.

Motherhood, as I experienced it, was not only made up of major sacrifices. It was built from repeated, ordinary acts. Walking places. Preparing food. Making jokes. Listening to questions. Carrying things. Noticing moods. Creating a laugh when a day felt difficult.

Those moments can look insignificant from the outside. They are not insignificant to me.

“What’s for tea?”

I also remembered asking my mum what was for tea.

That question appears in the song because it represents a whole part of childhood. I would ask. She would answer. Sometimes the answer would involve “air pie and a walk around“, which was enough to create a giggle.

That humour was one of my mum’s gifts.

She has always been able to make light of difficult situations. That does not mean she ignores problems. It means she refuses to let every problem take control of the room. When I am in a slump, she tries to lift me. She looks for something funny. She finds a way to create a smile when I am not expecting one.

There is strength in that.

I think it would be easy to describe a mother only through the things she provides. Hot dinners. Clean clothes. A safe home. Practical help. Those things matter, but my mum gave me more than practical care. She gave me emotional generosity.

She noticed how I was feeling. She made space for it. She often put my feelings before her own.

I remember watching soaps like Eastenders and Coronation Street on the television and having her tickle my back. Again, it was a completely ordinary moment. It would not look important in a photograph. It would not appear in a history book.

It is still one of the memories I carry with me.

A hand tracing shapes on my back. A television playing in the background. A quiet evening at home. A child feeling safe.

That is the kind of detail that turns into a song.

The mother she chose to be

My mum was not raised with exactly the same maternal instincts that I have seen in her.

I loved my nan, and I do not want to criticise her or pretend that I know everything about her life. My understanding comes from the stories I have been told, and those stories have left me with the impression that she did not always show care in the same way my mum has.

Families are complicated. People have different personalities, different experiences and different ways of expressing love. I cannot diagnose the reasons behind anyone else’s behaviour, and I do not want this song to become a judgement on my grandmother.

The important part, for me, is what my mum did with her own experience.

She chose to be the best mother she could be.

She did not allow the absence of an example to define the mother she became. She created her own example. She built something different for her children. From everything I have seen, she did not fail.

She succeeded completely.

I have watched her notice when other mothers do not seem to show the same level of care. She has never understood it. That difference is difficult for her to comprehend because looking after her children has always been instinctive.

She was born to be a mum.

That does not mean she was perfect. I am not trying to turn her into an imaginary version of a mother who never gets tired, never gets frustrated and never makes mistakes. I am writing about a real person.

A funny person. A protective person. A sometimes stubborn person. A person who has carried worries quietly. A person who has made sacrifices without presenting them as sacrifices.

That is why the tribute means something to me. It is not based on an impossible standard. It is based on a lifetime of evidence.

“Where are you going?”

The song moves from childhood into the years when I was older.

The question changes. When I was young, I asked my mum where we were going. Later, she asked me where I was going.

That change is familiar to me. I no longer needed permission in the same way, but she still needed to know that I was safe. Her questions became part of the background of growing up.

“Where’s your coat?”

“You’ll catch a cold.”

I can still imagine her shouting it loudly enough for the neighbours across the road to hear. The lyric about “Please yourself, your mother’s drunk” comes from that period too. It was not true, but it made me laugh. My mum could turn a warning into a joke without losing the warning itself.

That was her way.

She wanted to protect me, but she also understood that I would eventually have to make my own decisions. Her concern did not disappear when I grew older. It simply changed shape.

The coat was never only about the coat.

It meant she cared where I was going. It meant she wanted me to come home safely. It meant she was still looking after me, even when I thought I no longer needed looking after.

“I’m wonderful”

The final part of the song is more difficult for me to write about.

Now, when I ask my mum how she is, she does not like the question. She says, “I’m wonderful.” She says it with the same instinct that has guided her throughout my life.

Reassure the children.

Hide the pain.

Keep going.

I know she is trying to protect me from worry. I also worry because I can see what she is trying to hide. There is a tension in that answer. The words sound positive, but the truth behind them can be harder.

I do not include medical details because the song is not about illness. It is about the person behind the brave face.

My mum has spent years putting other people’s feelings before her own. When she says she is wonderful, I hear the love in it. I also hear the effort.

That is why the repeated phrase in the song carries more weight as it returns. It begins as a simple question between a child and his mum. By the end, it becomes a question asked by an adult who understands that his mum may not always answer honestly about how difficult things are.

I still want her to know that she does not always have to be the strong one.

The best mum in the world

I know I am not the only person who believes this about their mum. I also know that every family is different. Not everyone grows up with the same relationship, and not every mother shows love in the same way.

I can only speak about my own experience.

From where I stand, I genuinely believe I have the best mum in the world.

I believe she was put on this earth to be a mum. I believe she found her purpose in looking after her sons and grandchildren. I believe her humour, patience, protection and willingness to put others first have shaped the person I became.

“Born to Be My Mum” is my attempt to say thank you for all of it.

Thank you for carrying my bag.

Thank you for walking into town.

Thank you for making “air pie and a walk around” funny.

Thank you for the hot dinners, the television evenings and the tickles on my back.

Thank you for shouting about my coat.

Thank you for making me laugh when I was struggling.

Thank you for noticing when I was not all right.

Thank you for saying “I’m wonderful,” even when I know it is not that simple.

Most of all, thank you for being my mum.

I wrote the song because these memories deserved somewhere to live. They are not spectacular memories. They are better than that. They are real ones.

A life can be measured in big events, but love is often recognised in the small details. The questions. The jokes. The food. The warnings. The quiet reassurance. The things that happen so often that I once took them for granted.

I do not take them for granted now.

She was born to be my mum.

You can hear more of my music and follow The Buey Project on YouTube.