I'm taking my children's Christmas presents back to the shop!

Last night I sat on the bed in the spare room and surveyed the boxes and packages piled up around me. Before me lay my Christmas shopping, all done before school breaks up tomorrow  -  save for a few still to come from Amazon. All just sitting there, waiting to be wrapped.
But instead of the normal delight and anticipation I'd expected to experience, I felt, well, slightly sick.
There was just Too. Much. Of it. Too much cardboard, too much plastic, too much .. . excess. 

Less is more: Alice with twins Phoebe and Dora

What was even worse was that somehow  -  somewhere among all the toys and gadgets piled up in front of me  -  I sensed that I had lost 'Christmas'.
What's so different this year, I found myself wondering out loud. We've been lucky enough to get through 2009 without a huge financial shock but, like every family, we have made an effort to cut down, and have generally been more careful about the way we spend money. So why were there so many things that I'd been so convinced that we needed for a happy Christmas  -  but suddenly realised we didn't?
I pressed the nose on a Go Go hamster and was rewarded with a squeak and a thought.
Last year, our twin daughters' letters to Father Christmas were cute and innocent: 'Dear Father Christmas,' they read, 'I love you. Please may I have a pink doll? Lots of love etc etc'.
This year, Phoebe and Dora turned six and carefully hidden in the deeper recesses of my purse are their wish lists  -  letters to Father Christmas written in their very best joined-up handwriting in November (and carefully snitched by me at the last pre-posting minute).
Dora has asked for: real jewellery with diamonds; the big dog in the catalogue that barks; a pencil case that opens up; a Go Go hamster  -  and a diary with a lock.
Phoebe has asked Santa to provide: a 'big-girl' bike with a bell; more Darcey Bussell books; a Build-A-Bear kit; a sticker album  -  and a white rabbit.
These lists are an advertiser's dream, but a mother's commercial nightmare, as I quickly realised that the difference between this year and last is that the girls have flicked through catalogues and sat through adverts, their innocent minds brainwashed both by toy companies  -  and me.

Brainwashing: The Go Go Hamster is the must-have Christmas present children are demanding this year

After all, I am not only the one who has allowed them to watch the TV that has brainwashed them, but I have also bought them the presents they didn't know they 'needed'.
What's more, because my girls are the perfect age for the magic of Santa Claus, I wanted them to have 'the perfect Christmas'  -  which has resulted in me falling for what the advertisers have told me is 'The Christmas Dream'. And I am truly ashamed of myself.
Why couldn't I hold fast to my belief that Christmas doesn't need to be gift-wrapped or come supplied with AAA batteries? Why couldn't I let Christmas just be Christmas?
We had a serious lesson on 'less is more' a year and a half ago. On their fifth birthday, we threw a big party for the girls and invited 30 children.
Each guest generously brought a present each for Phoebe and Dora (politically correct procedure for twins), and the next morning we sat down with a list  -  and 60 ready-to-open parcels.
Within an hour, the recycling bin was overflowing with discarded wrapping paper  -  and Barbies, craft sets, dressing-up clothes and board games so prolific that there simply wasn't room for them in the playroom.
After the girls had opened about 30 presents, we felt we had to stop  -  instead staggering through the rest in the months that followed.
Their overstuffed shelves bulging with 'stuff', the playroom quickly came to resembled a Toys R Us warehouse  -  not somewhere suitable for the free and imaginative play that young children need most of all.
This year, I gently invited the parents of my daughters' classmates to contribute a little each to just one present  -  and I can honestly say we have had more family fun from their karaoke machine than I'd thought possible.
From us, the girls received a desk and a Barbie each. Was their birthday ruined by a lack of gaudy paper and so- called 'must-have' toys? Not at all. Far from it, in fact: we all had a great time  -  and there were certainly no tears shed over the anticipated presents that didn't come.
What's more, the gifts the girls did receive were valued  -  and enjoyed  -  that much more because of their uniqueness, rather than being 'just another' in a large pile.

Excess: You don't need hundreds of presents stuffed under the tree to enjoy Christmas with the family

Back in the spare room, I leafed through the receipts in a panic. Had I gone disgustingly over the top and spent more than I'd planned? Seemingly not, since the receipts tallied.
Most of the 'wished for' things on their lists had been allocated to 'friends and family'  -  and I had stuck to a realistic budget, pounding away at my keyboard to find the cheapest source for every purchase online.
All the same, whichever way I looked at it, there was still far more stuff on the spare bed than my girls were ever going to need  -  or enjoy.
The much- quoted 'average family' will, according to American Express, spend £260 on presents, £67 on decorations and cards and £141 on food and drink at Christmas time.
But even if my bill for gifts is close to the mark, without even stepping foot in the supermarket I know that my food and beverage bill for entertaining family and friends will be shockingly beyond the 'norm'.
And yet, I can't help wondering why it is that we lose all sense of proportion at this time of year, convinced that unless the fridge is full to bursting and the stockings overflowing with trinkets, we aren't going to have a 'happy Christmas'?
When I think back to my own childhood, Christmases were comfortable, but they certainly weren't extravagant.
There's a photo of me sitting beside a (decidedly dodgy) fake Christmas tree  -  but the unchecked glee on my face speaks volumes. I remember some of the presents I received  -  a Teeny Tiny Tears Doll one year, and a over-sized teddy with a bell in his ear another. But most of my memories are of magical times, not magnificent presents. It was all about the crackers we pulled and the board games we played.
So what should I do? Take back the Christmas booty? Flog the longed-for hamster on eBay? Pocket the profit? Donate it to charity? Fill my children's stockings with satsumas instead?
Right now, I'm sorely tempted. And yet, somehow I can't quite commit myself to going all Kirstie Allsopp and insisting on hand-made gifts.
(Even with all the reclaimed shopping hours, I really don't have either the time or the inclination for homecrafts  -  and furthermore, I don't much fancy inhabiting a house stuffed to the gills with loo-roll pencil pots and shell pictures. Other than Kirstie, I'm not sure who would.)
Instead, I rearranged the boxes into piles of 'must have', 'would love' and 'don't really need'  -  and, I must confess, it looked a whole lot better.
Refusing to be held to ransom by an interactive hamster, I shall unearth my receipts and take the 'don't needs' back  -  and the money I recoup will be returned to my bank account faster than you can say Ho Ho Ho-verdraft . . .
This year, I will be living the Christmas Dream. But the 'Dream' will not be that of any TV advertiser or toy catalogue  -  it will be of my own making.