I was mum-shamed during a road rage incident at my own home

"Instead of an apology, I got the harshest judgement of my screaming baby."

It was a warm Thursday afternoon, and my nine-month-old was screaming bloody murder in his car seat. 

It had just been one of those days. The kind you have as a parent where everything is just that little bit off with your kid. They refuse a nap when it’s normally no issue. They’re off their food and milk. They might be sick, or teething, or perhaps just having a bad day - it happens to all of us, after all.

As a parent, they’re the kind of days that make you want to hunker down at home and wait for the storm to pass. But sometimes, hunkering isn’t an option. Sometimes, we need to get things done. 

This particular Thursday, I had a to do list as long as my arm.  My baby was coming along for the ride whether he liked it or not. 

As it happened, he did not. 

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Zoe was confronted by a woman who was blocking her driveway. Image: supplied

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"She shouted in my face"

He was crabby in the post office and cranky in the supermarket. By the time we got back in the car headed for home, he was evidently over our little outing, and frankly, so was I. 

Which is why, when I pulled out to our driveway to see another car blocking it, I was already frustrated. 

The other car was parked squarely across our garage door, in a laneway the width of a single car. I stuck my hand out the driver’s side window to point to our garage door, which I had already opened. The car didn’t move, but I could see its driver sitting inside. 

Annoyed, I gave a tiny beep of my horn, just enough to indicate that I needed her to move. Still, nothing. In the back seat, without the movement of the car to placate him, my baby’s screams intensified. I beeped again. The driver pointed out her window at another, closed, garage door opposite my own. She was letting me know she was waiting for it to open - presumably it wasn’t her home.

That wasn’t an issue, of course, but I still needed her to move.

I beeped again, harder this time. I was losing my patience, and my son had lost his long ago. 

But then, extraordinarily, instead of the car pulling into motion, I saw the driver’s side door open, and an older woman stepped out. She walked directly to my window, knocked on it for me to open it, and proceeded to shout in my face. 

“I’m waiting for my daughter to open the garage!” She screamed. “You just need to be patient!” 

I tried to explain that I just needed her to move forward a little bit so I could get inside. I told her - although the noise was self-evident at this point - that I had a crying baby in the back seat and just needed to get him out of the car. I was close to tears myself, but she had no sympathy whatsoever. 

“Why is your baby even crying so much?” She asked. “Does he need something?” 

I honestly couldn’t believe my ears. I was starting to wonder if I was losing my mind, trapped in some kind of nightmare. Of COURSE he needed something - he was hungry and tired and hated his car seat, like pretty much every other active nine-month-old I’ve ever met in my life. 

“Could you please just move your car?” I pleaded again over his screaming. 

“I’ve had four kids,” she told me angrily. “And I know a baby crying is not a big deal. If you’re so worried about it, you should just GROW UP!”

She shouted the last words in my face. 

"I can't imagine doing that to a mum"

Thankfully, her daughter then arrived, and she finally - slowly, deliberately, as if to show me she had no interest in rushing - pulled into her garage, allowing me into mine.

I parked the car, rescued my son, and we both stood together in the dark of our garage, sobbing. 

I still can’t put my finger on what shocked me most about the encounter, but I think the most egregious part was that the woman claimed to have been a mum herself. I simply can’t imagine ever treating another mum that way, from attacking their parenting to deliberating stopping them from offering their baby help or comfort.

I hope she never treated her own four children so callously. 

From the garage, I called my own mum, who did exactly what I would have expected an older, more experienced mum to do: checked I was okay, and offered to help me with my distressed baby if I needed it. We agreed that the only person who needed to “grow up” was the other driver. 

And then I went inside and cuddled my son to sleep - exactly what I knew he had needed in the first place. 

Originally published as I was mum-shamed during a road rage incident at my own home