I’M sorry, but I cannot get my head around the news that mums are becoming increasingly competitive at the school gates, vying with each other over things such as their choice of outfits or the speed of their post-baby weightloss and desperately trying to big-up their children’s achievements.

As if it’s not enough just getting the little ones into class safely and on time each day, they are thinking about what their handbags say about them, about how successful their husbands are seen to be and how many invitations their kids get to birthday parties. I am obviously a total failure when it comes to time management, because I consider simply getting the family out of the door in time each morning a major triumph, and that’s with at least an hour spent preparing the evening before, making up “interesting” packed lunches, laying-out nursery/school outfits, the breakfast things and updating reading/homework.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Heaven help us if there’s a forgotten note from school reminding me that it’s mufti day the following day, or from nursery informing me that this week’s Silly Soup letter will be W.

Come on, would you fancy trawling the house for small objects beginning with W at nine at night, when all you want to do is sit down for the second time that day since 7am? (A witch’s hat, a toy watch, whale and a Lego wheel, since you ask).

Maybe it’s because I work more than half the week, though, more likely, it’s because I’m just not that good at being organised.

For some reason we always seem to be like that family in ’90s comedy sketch show The Fast Show that runs everywhere, laden with bags and in a state of perpetual, lateness-induced panic.

So how other people find the time to compete on things as trivial as what they’ve got on, or what car they drive about in, is beyond me.

Yet somehow they do, and I’ve even witnessed it first-hand.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you competitive cake baking.

Every now and then schools ask their pupils to bring in cakes for a quick, fundraising sale at the end of the day.

Round our house this is regarded as another thing to add to (or, worse, miss off) an already ridiculously tight schedule, but we try to come up with something homemade – a tray of rocky road, a batch of fairy cakes.

Some parents, and who can blame them, simply buy some from the shop and arrange them nicely on a plate.

Each to their own I say.

But some – and you know who you are – use it as an opportunity to compete, theatrically delivering elaborate works of confected art, which put all our squished butterfly cakes and flattened Swiss rolls to shame.

I have heard tell of friendships reaching breaking point – even ending – over competitive cake baking, as one mum’s intricate Easter bunny blew another’s Rice Krispie nest display out of the water.

Which brings me nicely to that other minefield of competitive parenting issues – the children’s birthday party.

Once upon a time these were innocent, jolly affairs, awash with curling ham sarnies, tepid squash, ready-salted crisps, watery jelly and raspberry ripple ice cream for a handful of nippers.

There’d be a bit of fun in the shape of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, pass the parcel, blind man’s bluff and off they’d all go, happy, full of e numbers, clutching a lump of cake and possibly a sick bag.

Now it’s all personalised invitations at dawn (and months in advance to avoid date clashes) to a minimum of 20 children and a theme is a must with matching napkins, cups, plates and décor; extra brownie points go to those parents who come up with anything different to the bog-standard options of Hello Kitty, Ben 10, High School Musical or Mr Men.

Games still go on, but it’s so much flashier to have them organised by hired help, such as a DJ, scientist, magician or puppeteer and prizes should be given to all the winners.

If there’s a bit of a retro vibe, you know, Cath Kidston bunting, pastel cup-cake stands and organic ginger beer, then pass-the-parcel can still occur, but where once it was a single toy wrapped in layers of scrap paper, now social mores dictate it should be fancy wrapping paper, and each layer should contain a hidden treat for every child, until the unveiling of an extra-special prize for the final unwrapper.

But it’s the party bags that are possibly the most ludicrous of all, with people trying to outdo one another with the amount and/or quality of items they put in them, or by doing something different to tie-in with the party theme once more, such as giving individually chosen books, large Easter eggs, beach toy sets and crafting kits.

Interestingly, 80 per cent of the mums who admitted to being competitive on this level said they realised it was ridiculous, but they just couldn’t help themselves.

Daft if you ask me.

Now, time to dig out my bespoke train cake mould, Madagascan vanilla pods and hand-curled Fair Trade chocolate curls, I’ve got a cake to make for the school fayre!