It never ceases to amaze me how much paraphernalia you need with children. The sheer amount of stuff that accompanies them would rival a Mariah Carey entourage.

I'm not sure if we just expand into the amount of room we have available.

We had a three-door car with our daughter and would go on long journeys that involved me having to sit in the passenger seat while luggage was strategically packed around me. There was no need for an air bag in the unfortunate case of an accident as I was so tightly packed in I literally couldn't move a muscle for the duration of the journey.

Before having our son we took what felt like a massively grown up step and bought a second-hand estate car for three hundred quid.

The thinking was we'd have more than enough space for a family of four.

What idiots. It turns out we just find more things to drive around with. It becomes a Tetris-style challenge.

I see an inch of space and think, fantastic, you could definitely ram a scooter in that gap. On a recent trip to show off our new baby to the family, the car struggled to go above 60 miles an hour, creaking under the immense weight of our belongings.

As we turn up at relatives' houses you can see the panic in their eyes. When we start to unpack, it looks like we're never going to leave.

First out of the boot comes the three massive rucksacks, followed shortly by the baby gym, toys, potty, toilet training seat, plastic bags full of emergency food, half a library of children's books... the list goes on. The thing is, once it's all out of the car I can't find anything I need anyway, and the thought of having to unpack three rucksacks of clothes to find a muslin cloth makes me want to punch myself in my own face with frustration.

I like to bill myself as a bit of an expert when it comes to packing for three people.

The reality is, I get all the stuff I need for the children and throw whatever is closest to hand in a bag for me about 30 seconds before we leave the house. Unfortunately this means that, whilst both kids have enough clothes to last them until Christmas, I only have one pair of pants, no pyjamas, an empty can of deodorant and a pair of shorts that are so tight they'd make Miley Cyrus blush.

We have an estate car full of belongings but I still have to buy deodorant and supermarket jeans so I don't have to go around stinking of BO with a wedgy for the entirety of our trip.

Perhaps our next vehicle purchase should be a double-decker bus. Maybe then I'd manage to pack enough underwear to see me through a weekend.