One of the nice things about life is that just when I think I don't have enough time to write a blog post, fate steps in and keeps me up all night, giving me ample opportunity to get the job done. Obviously when I say 'fate', I mean Amelie, but it amounts to the same thing.

I planned to sleep in the living room last night to avoid Toby's polite requests for food, but having inflated my bouncy castle and stuck a sheet on it, Amelie turned up with impeccable timing and asked if she could share my bed. Naturally I said no, and forced her back into her own bedroom, but ten minutes later, just as I was dropping off to sleep, I felt someone climbing under the duvet. I thought it was Lisa testing the weight limit of the Aerobed, but sadly for me, it was my wayward daughter.

Anyway, I don't know if you've ever tried picking up a fifty pound sack of potatoes from floor-level when you've got a dodgy back and the potatoes keep clinging on to the mattress, but trust me, it's not easy. I did try verbally ordering her back to bed in a low-toned Supernanny voice, but I don't think she's seen the show. My low-toned voice seemed to send her to sleep.

So having failed to drag her out by her ankles, I had no choice but to join Lisa in the torture room for a night of constant wailing. Which got even worse when Toby woke up. By 4am I'd barely slept, and having tried - and failed - to move Amelie for a second time, I admitted defeat and retired to her bedroom with the laptop. She might not want to sleep in here, but at least the room has wi-fi.

It's ironic, because we've had a busy couple of days, and I could do with a good night's sleep. Lisa had a bad night on Saturday, so I took the kids out for a walk on Sunday morning to give her a break. That went well. Toby started crying when we were a mile from home, and just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, Amelie fell over, grazed both her knees, and told me she couldn't walk back. I had to push the buggy with one hand, pull Amelie with the other, and listen to stereo sobbing. For a mile. Just as it started to rain.

Fortunately the afternoon was a lot better. We had a visit from Stefan and Andrew, who seemed very pleased to meet Toby...

It's easy to be happy when he's not crying. They should try coming at night.

To be honest, it was the same with Amelie...

... and look how she turned out.

They gave Amelie those leopardskin booties, but Toby received something far more bespoke: a hand-made blanket from the S&A fashion house. Stefan chose the wool, and Andrew took charge of the crochet hooks. They also gave him a spring-powered zebra, which is something no baby should be without. Although he'll be lucky if he can get it off his sister.

Anyhoo, Stefan declined to hold Toby, presumably because he didn't trust me and Lisa not to run straight out the door and never come back, but he did make us feel better by proving that things could be a lot worse if we'd kept those kittens. Apparently he and Andrew had a female guest the other week, and having allowed her time to settle in, Zita & Rozi made her feel truly welcome by pulling a line of toilet paper out of the bin and running through the flat with her used tampon. It must have been a memorable moment. And let's face it, memories are all they have, as there's no way she'll be coming back.

As for yesterday, I took Amelie to Asda, tried to set up a trust fund for Toby, fixed a light, rewired the TV, hoovered up Rice Krispies, cleaned Amelie's slippers, printed out photos, did about six loads of washing, and generally fetched, carried and sorted. It's a week until I go back to work. And frankly I can't wait.