Worst Mommy

In general, I think I'm a pretty good mommy.  I feed our little bugger any time he asks, hold him, talk to him, change him, take him on walks, protect him from the elements, and give him too many kisses.  But last night, for about half an hour, I was the worst mommy.
George was on an overnight shift, and Drakeson fell asleep around 20:00.  Had George been home, he would have convinced me to go to sleep immediately, but on my own, I took advantage of the opportunity and called an old friend I had been meaning to catch up with.  We had been talking for about two hours when Drakeson started stirring.  I got off the phone to take care of him, but he had already fallen back asleep.  As I brushed my teeth, I convinced myself that I should change his diaper since it had been a couple hours.  And since changing his diaper would wake him up anyway, I decided to feed him first so he would have a nice, full belly.  There is nothing Drakeson loves more than milk, so in a tired daze, he ate.  And he ate and he ate.  I was looking down and admiring my happy little angel when he startled us both by hurling milk all over the bed.  Now he was fully awake in a cold, wet nightie with vomit in his mouth and a dirty diaper on his ass.  I scooped him up and went into his room to pick out clean clothes, which gave him enough time to panic and get congested.  Because he was congested, he couldn't breathe unless he was screaming, so I put him down and cleaned out his nose with saline solution and a suction bulb.  Nobody likes being on either end of that process.  I changed his diaper, which made him cold.  I took off his wet nightie, which made him colder.  So imagine you were fast asleep when some giant person force-fed you until you threw up, put salt water up your nose, and took off all your clothes as you shivered.  That person would be the worst mommy.
After his new nightie was on, I wanted to bounce him on the exercise ball, which always calms him down.  Strangely enough, it wasn't in our room.  I put Drakeson down and ran out to the living area.  Drakeson screamed (and rightly so), for now on top of everything else, he had been abandoned.  The ball wasn't there, so I came back in the bedroom and looked again, to no avail.  After a few minutes of running around, I realized George had stolen it, locked it in the garage, and convinced me to turn on the house alarm.  So I ran back out, messed with the stupid alarm, and finally got the ball back into our room.  Drakeson and I were both totally pissed.

Earlier that Day (24 Feb 13)