What’s Actually in My Car When We Travel With a Toddler
There was a time when our entire home came with us everywhere we went.
Cue our vanlife and Skoolie-living era, when if I needed a sweatshirt or wanted to change my shoes, well, they were just back at the house… in the parking lot.
And when Banks was a newborn living in the Skoolie with us, that absolutely came in handy. Major blowout while grocery shopping at Walmart? No problem. His entire wardrobe was outside.
If he decided he was ready for a nap while we were out to eat, sometimes we'd simply ask for our food to go and head back to the parking lot, where our little Skoolie—and the girls—were waiting patiently for us. We'd lay him down in his crib, eat our dinner in peace, and carry on.
Honestly, having your entire house waiting in the parking lot with a newborn was pretty convenient.
But somewhere around the time we found ourselves sitting in a broken-down Skoolie on the side of Interstate 75, we had a realization:
Maybe our house and our vehicle shouldn't be the same thing.
At least not right now.
And once we made the switch, everything changed.
Suddenly, if we left the campground for the day, the extra diapers were actually back at the house.
So was the second outfit.
The sweatshirt.
The snacks.
The thing I definitely remembered packing only to realize I'd left it sitting on the camper counter.
That's when I got really good at packing.
And I mean really good.
Now, after enough road trips, moving days, beach excursions, hikes, grocery runs, and full days away from the camper with a toddler, I've figured out the difference between packing for every possible disaster and simply having what we're actually going to need.
I don't haul half of Banks's bedroom around with us.
Anymore, at least.
I don't pack seventeen toys to keep him entertained.
And I definitely don't want to dig through the back of a packed Yukon on the side of the road looking for a diaper or clean pair of shorts.
So after all these miles—and more than a few lessons learned the hard way—here's what's actually in my car when we travel with a toddler.
A Key Piece of Advice — Don't Pack From Scratch
I should probably tell you now that I love organizing things.
Like, really love organizing things.
It's a problem—until it's not. And then it's just a useful skill I've acquired over the years from living on the road and figuring out how to fit an unreasonable amount of our life into very small spaces.
I've literally had people ask me if I had something, only to immediately answer themselves with, Never mind, you live in a van.
And my response was almost always:
Actually… I do have that.
Their expressions were priceless. I was like the vanlife hippie version of Mary Poppins.
These days, my system requires a few things to permanently live in the Yukon—or, at least, until they're no longer useful enough to earn their piece of very valuable real estate.
There are big bags—and inside the big bags?
There are small bags.
Sounds absurd, I know. But there is a method to my madness.
Those smaller bags have categories.
There's a bag for Banks.
A bag for me.
Entertainment bags—one for Banks and one for us, with things like card games.
There's a medical bag.
And, shoot, I even have a bag of survival gear.
Do I know exactly what we're surviving?
No.
But apparently at some point I decided there was a reasonable chance we'd urgently need a fire starter, so I have one for when we do.
Zach, though?
He's on his own.
I have a toddler and two dogs to keep alive, plus apparently the apocalypse to prepare for.
Whatever he needs better be in his truck.
The point is, most of what keeps us prepared for a day away from the camper is already waiting in the Yukon. I don't pack it every time we leave—I just make sure everything has a home, replace what we've used, and rotate things out when we don't need them anymore.
Why Things Permanently Live in Our Yukon
Here's the deal… I don't want to predict every possible Tuesday.
But as an organization freak, I also don't want my SUV to turn into a rolling closet.
Depending on the season, things change. They get swapped out, rearranged, and replaced with whatever makes sense for our life at the time.
Currently, it's summer where we are.
So if we end up at the beach on a random Tuesday?
We're covered.
Let's say we have a friend visiting and decide to take them to the Beer Barn for some of the best local pizza in town—even though it's down a sketchy gravel road and kind of looks like the beginning of a scary movie—only to get there and realize it's hoppin' with live music that night.
True story, by the way.
I've got Banks's headphones.
Or maybe I'm visiting family one evening and we all suddenly get a hankering for Mexican food.
I've got Banks's restaurant essentials.
Or maybe Zach and I spend the day in town and decide it's way too beautiful outside to head straight back to the camper, so we end up at the park instead.
I've got the stroller and a fan.
The point isn't to carry everything we could possibly need.
It's to have the things we actually use already waiting for us—without opening the back of the Yukon and having half our life fall out into the parking lot.
So how do I fit an absurd amount of stuff in my SUV, keep it tidy, and somehow have what we need without hauling around a bunch of things we don't?
Well…
Here's the roadmap to my SUV.
What’s in the Bag I Can Reach From the Front — For Now
Before my first eight-hour solo road trip with Banks, I bought an Amazon Bogg Bag knockoff.
Well, I actually bought two—a big one and a small one.
I don't use either of them for what I originally thought I would, but the big one happens to fit perfectly between my bucket seats, right behind the center console. Its job is to hold the things I might actually need for Banks while we're on the road.
The indispensable things I can reach without digging.
I intentionally don't keep much in here. If I'm reaching behind me for a toy at a stop—or trying to find something without completely unloading the bag—I want to be able to recognize what I've grabbed just by feeling it.
So here's what's actually in there:
Small toys — so I can toss one back to Banks.
A lightweight blanket.
My carrier sling — for when he decides he doesn't want the stroller but also absolutely does not want to walk.
A bag—shocker—with extra sippy cups, suction bowls, sectional plates, and toddler silverware.
Extra binkies.
His grocery cart seat cover — doubles as a high chair cover for restaurants.
His headphones.
This is my preparedness bag. If I need it to go in someone else's car, I just grab it and boom, done.
And I have one rule about this bag:
If we use it, it goes back.
What’s Behind My Seat
The stroller — Banks is still rear-facing, so it fits perfectly behind my seat and also behind his.
Banks — in his car seat.
A toy or two — usually tucked into his door.
Sometimes an extra binkie.
An atlas — in the storage compartment on the back of my seat.
Because we've been driving through the middle of nowhere one too many times when cell service suddenly disappeared and we were left looking around like, WTF are we… and why does this feel like the beginning of a horror movie?
Cue the atlas.
It's old-school, but when Google Maps gives up on you somewhere between here and wherever you're going, suddenly that giant book of paper maps doesn't seem so ridiculous.
Believe it or not, that baby has come in handy more times than I can count.
What’s Behind the Passenger Seat
Surprisingly, I keep this area open for the times I actually have an extra passenger.
Or, more likely, for when I need to flip the seat up so the girls can get in and out because the tailgate is blocked by the motorcycle that feels like it's permanently attached to the back of my car.
I do have one of those military-style organizers on the back of that seat. It was a random Temu purchase back when we lived in the van, and it's followed me ever since.
In there I have:
Survival gear — flints, paracord… you know, all the camping things we may need for a spur-of-the-moment camping trip. Yes, that happens often enough for them to earn their place.
Two decks of playing cards — yes, we've been stranded enough times without cell service for those to absolutely earn their place.
Keys to our storage unit — the most expensive attic there ever was.
Cleaning supplies.
A medical kit.
Extra breast milk bags.
A bottle.
A collection of stickers we've picked up over the years on the road — because apparently even my organizational system has a sentimental section.
What’s in the Center Console — Random Things That Somehow Always Come in Handy
And then there's my center console.
This is where the organization gets a little harder to defend.
An anti-choking device — because, toddler.
Cell charging cords.
Trash bags.
Plastic silverware.
Small plastic cups.
A few paper plates.
A stain-removing pen.
A mini container of laundry detergent.
Before you judge me, it was $1 at Dollar General.
Also, when Banks was little, we regularly traveled four hours each way for appointments and sometimes stayed overnight. One of those trips ended with me needing to do laundry at the hotel.
Turns out, the random $1 bottle of detergent was useful.
So there it lives.
And matches — can't forget the matches.
There are actually matches in more than one place in my car, apparently.
But do you know how many times someone has asked if anybody has a lighter or a match?
Welp.
I'm your woman.
You know. Normal center-console things.
Do I use all of these things regularly?
Absolutely not.
Have enough weird situations happened in our life that I refuse to remove them?
Also yes.
Honestly, that's how half the things in my Yukon earned their permanent residency. I needed them once, they saved the day, and I decided I would never be caught without them again.
And this is usually the point when someone asks me for something, assumes there's absolutely no reason I'd have it in my car, and starts looking for another solution.
Actually… I do have that.
It's probably in the center console.
What’s in the Secret Cubby
The secret cubby is very small. It's in the back, just behind the tailgate on the floor, and holds things like:
The stroller fan.
An extra pair of shoes for both me and Banks.
A small tarp — 'cause, you know, camping people here.
Doggie poop bags.
The doggie water bottle — with a collapsible bowl on top.
What’s in the Back
I typically keep my back seats down so I have room for groceries and the dogs when we take them on adventures or big travel days.
I keep one small section in the back pushed against the bucket seats. Everything sits on one of those waterproof mats that can move, so if I do have extra passengers, I can simply slide the mat toward the tailgate and lift the seats.
On that mat, I keep one 5-quart tub, but what lives in it changes depending on the season.
This time of year, it's filled with towels—and my very long-lived tie-dye sheet.
In the winter, it holds blankets.
You're probably thinking, Okay, this woman is officially insane.
But hear me out.
With limited room to store these things in the camper, we've actually found them to be much more useful in the car.
The extra towels get used constantly. We're always ending up on some adventure where somebody gets muddy and needs to sit on one, somebody gets wet and needs to dry off, or—let's be honest—one of the dogs has found something disgusting, rolled in it, and then needs a wipe down.
And the tie-dye sheet?
Rest-stop picnics. Parks. The beach.
Who doesn't own a designated beach sheet?
Mine just happens to live in the Yukon this time of year.
The blankets work the same way, except they become much more important when the weather starts cooling down. As the towels and summer stuff start coming out, the blankets start taking over.
Because traveling with two dogs and a toddler has taught me to expect the unexpected.
And if the unexpected happens to leave us sitting stranded on the side of the road waiting for help when it's freezing outside?
I want the blankets.
Which is really how most of the Yukon works.
What earns permanent residency changes with the season.
The Seasonal Stuff
Right now, summer has claimed its share of space in the Yukon:
Banks's life jacket.
His infant-to-24-month float.
Beach toys.
The smaller waterproof Amazon Bogg-style knockoff bag — with our hiking canteens, extra bucket hats, and water shoes.
Banks's folding camping chair — which doubles as a high chair when we're on the go or visiting family and he gets hungry.
Summer gear obviously doesn't stay in the car forever. It only lives there because we're currently using it.
We always need the Yukon to get somewhere before we can use these things—especially being near the coast and having family with swimming pools. So instead of constantly loading and unloading them, it makes more sense for them to live in the SUV than take up precious camper storage.
When the season changes, this stuff comes out and whatever we need for the next season takes its place.
Because all of these things are already waiting in the Yukon, there really isn't that much left for me to pack.
Most days, there's only one bag that actually comes and goes with us.
And on big travel days or longer adventures, I pack a small cooler.
So, what do I actually pack for a road trip with a toddler?
My Toddler Road Trip Packing List
The Yukon is our permanent system. This is the stuff I actually check, replenish, and add to the diaper bag before we leave the camper.
The Diaper Bag
This bag comes in and out of the camper with us, and these items are replenished each time we leave.
You'll notice a few duplicates from my permanent Yukon bag. That's intentional. The diaper bag comes inside with us; the extras in the Yukon are backups that stay in the car.
Diapers — for a full day, I bring 8. For a quick outing, I bring 4. On a travel day 10, plus what lives on the bed in our world’s largest diaper changing station. Because, you just never know!
Swim diapers — 5 for a full day, 3 for a half day.
Wipes — I always check what's in the changing pad carrier. If we'll be out all day, I always bring an extra pack.
Changing pad — we use one that also acts as a bag to hold diapers, wipes, and creams. It fits in the diaper bag's largest compartment or hangs on the back of Banks’s seat.
Diaper cream.
Extra outfits — 2 for a full-day excursion, 1 for a half day.
Pajamas — every single outing. I've been caught out late without them too many times to leave them behind.
Socks — always.
Bug spray.
Toddler snacks — the ones that don't need to stay cold.
Sippy cups — one already full and ready to go, plus one extra just in case.
Toddler snack cup with a lid — so he can feed himself.
Binkies.
Banks's EpiPen — and with all the teething lately, Tylenol or Motrin, depending on what I have in stock in the camper.
More disposable placemats.
Long binkie/toy/cup leashes.
Banks's bucket hat.
And then there's a small bag for me with:
Perfume.
Hand sanitizer.
Contact solution.
Contact case.
Eye drops.
Extra contacts.
Pads and tampons.
My wallet.
The diaper bag usually gets tossed in the passenger seat if I'm alone with Banks. Otherwise, I don't need it handy while I'm on the road, so I usually toss it in the rear passenger seat or between the bucket seats.
This is the bag that goes everywhere with us.
Food & Cooler
For normal errands or short outings, the permanent Yukon setup plus the diaper bag is usually enough.
For an actual road trip or longer travel day?
I add the cooler.
A meal for Banks — if we're going to need one.
Pouches — 1 meat pouch, 1 fruit pouch, and 1 veggie pouch.
Cold snacks from the fridge.
Water — 4 bottles.
A soda for me.
An ice pack.
Drink pouches for Zach and me — tucked into the side pocket.
It's genuinely a small cooler, so there isn't much room. Only a single layer of drinks fits, which means nothing can easily get buried. If it can get smushed, it stays near the top.
All we need is just enough space to keep the things that need to stay cold, cold.
I keep the cooler in the front seat or between the bucket seats in the back so it's easily accessible without unloading the entire Yukon.
And I typically prepare Banks a meal in advance if we'll need one. Otherwise, the cooler is the last thing I pack before the fridge is locked and the slide comes in.
And that's really it.
The Yukon already has the things we use regularly. The diaper bag gets replenished. The cooler gets packed when we'll be gone long enough to need it.
I don't make a giant packing list every time we leave the camper because most of the work has already been done.
The One Thing I Can't Pack
When we're towing, our house may technically be traveling with us—but it's still traveling separately.
Once something gets packed into the camper, it might as well be on another planet until we find somewhere safe enough to stop and get into it.
And even then, when the slide is in, the only two rooms we can access are our bedroom at the front of the camper and the bathroom, thanks to its own exterior door.
We've come a long way from having everything we owned sitting in the back of the van with us.
Now?
Everything I'm going to need for the next five hours better be somewhere in this Yukon.
But that's exactly why this system works for us.
I don't have to pack for every possible version of the day. I don't have to predict every random Tuesday. And I don't have to wonder whether we'll have what we need if a quick outing turns into dinner with family, an afternoon at the park, or another adventure we hadn't planned on taking.
You don't need to copy my Yukon item for item—or organize yours the same way I do.
Pay attention to what your own family repeatedly needs. Give those things a permanent home. Replace them when you use them. Rotate them when your life or the season changes.
And if that happens to include survival gear and multiple ways to start a fire?
Great. Store it.
Because after all of the bags, backup supplies, diapers, snacks, and ridiculous things I've somehow justified keeping in my center console, the most important thing I bring with me isn't something I can pack at all.
It's flexibility.
These days, getting out the door usually comes down to four questions:
Do I have diapers?
Do I have wipes?
Do I have snacks?
Do I have something for him to drink?
If the answer is yes?
We're out the door.
Whatever happens after that, we'll figure out somewhere along the way.
From the Nomadic Habits Archives
Before the Yukon became our traveling command center, our vehicle actually was our home. Take a tour of one of our old van setups and see just how much life we used to fit into a very small space.
