Is it normal for my mum to say this?

I'm a full-grown adult female, single; nearing 35. I was about to leave the UK for my now-home country after a holiday and my mum was driving me to the train station in her car (she had insisted on taking me; I had made sure I would leave in enough time to make my own way because she doesn't always stick to her word, and I didn't want to miss my flight).

I spent the car journey trying to dry off a bag and its contents, which a jar of liquid had leaked into, as well as tying a tissue and a piece of thread around the rim of the offending jar in order to stop it from leaking again. My bag was balanced precariously on my knee and I struggled, fruitlessly, not to let items spill out around my feet.

While I was using up all my the concentration on this task, which was becoming more urgent the closer we got to the station (because I knew my mum would not be prepared to wait once we arrived), she ignored the situation and gave me a monologue about her plans for the week: what she had done the previous day, what had happened at her ladies' club the previous week, whom she had spoken to, what she was doing the next day and with whom, and probably something else about her cat... I punctuated her monologue with 'mmm's and 'uh-huh's at appropriate moments while fumbling awkwardly with pieces of string and tissue paper and trying not to lose anything from my bag, and she thankfully did not think my efforts too paltry.

That is, except one moment when she said: 'Why are you using that old bag? It's terribly small! Why aren't you using the beautiful green travel bag I got you last year?' I asked her which bag she meant. 'You know - the green one I got you for Christmas! Why aren't you using it?' I faltered, 'Oh, that. Well, you see... I decided not to. I mean, I don't really use that one for travelling. The green one's my work bag and I use it to...'

At that point something in me snapped. While I was concentrating so hard on saving my luggage I could tolerate her self-centredness only as long as it was just her talking about herself in a monologue. I was reminded in that moment of the hurt I have felt every time over a lifetime that she has tried to criticise or control trivial, meaningless choices like what bag I bring or what coat I wear, and expected me to explain myself or comply. I am a grown woman now! It felt demeaning to have to placate her.

I blurted out angrily, "Wait... I don't have to justify my choice of bag to you! I brought the bag I brought! I shouldn't have to make excuses for the bag I decided to bring!"

She responded to this outburst with deprecation. Without thinking, she ran her mouth and, as she has done for as long as I remember, accused me of being horrid or rude to her (I forget which: it all sounds the same). She threatened not to take me to the station she had said she would, saying: "You know, I don't have to do this for you!!" I for my part knew that the time was too short to explain that I had been triggered by painful childhood memories of her without worsening her present 'rage state' (with which I am also familiar, of long) or bringing bad consequences on myself. So I stayed silent, and then she ran out of things to deprecate or threaten me with, and the rest of the journey was silent. She seemed to shut down and retreat into herself, expressionless and 'absent'. Once we had arrived at the station and there was no chance of her dropping me at the side of the road out of spite, I said, "Wow, look at you. I say one thing you don't understand, and you go all staid." What I had wanted to do was ask her why she needed to fly off the handle at a single remark she had deemed objectionable, instead of trying to understand it - or even just tolerating it as a quirk or a blip and moving on. After all, there is plenty about her that I spend my time trying to tolerate and understand, and so many things that she has permitted herself to say in spates of anger, that it is hard for me to know whether it's normal.

She didn't wish me her love as I said goodbye or reach out to hug me, so I did the responsible thing and hugged her myself, to which she scarcely responded.

Can this be normal? My perspective is limited by my experience. In my life with her it has been normal; in my life in my new country, it is not. But objectively, to you, is it normal?