MORE STORIES ABOUT MUSIC AND VOMIT

So tonight I start my new job.

For the first time in 13 years, I'll be a club DJ.

In case I have to miss a night, I've got a backup DJ waiting in the wings.

Say what you want, but the kid can scratch the shit out of some Wiggles tunes.

As it turns out, I'll actually be deejaying in three clubs in town, making myself the most overexposed DJ in the country.

I'm like the Fatboy Slim of Alabama.

Minus the "Slim" part.

On Tuesdays and Fridays, I work in one club.

Wednesdays and Thursdays, another club owned by someone completely different.

Saturdays and (possibly) Sundays, another club entirely.

Six nights a week.

30 hours a week.

Making twice what I was making at my last job.

It's almost too good to be true.

Let's see how I feel about this new career excursion in a week.

I had to take Andrew to the doctor yesterday.

As it turns out, he has the croup.

Or he has croup.

Is it called "the" croup?

Anyway, he's honking like a duck every two minutes so the doctor gave him a shot in the leg.

I'm home with him again today which means I won't get jack done around the house.

I'm only getting this written because Dora the Explorer just came on TV and he's mesmerized for the next 22 minutes.

So in 22 minutes, I'm back to being his personal slave.

This includes, but is not limited to:

A) Wiping the snot from his nose every three minutes.

B) Finding his orange juice every ten minutes because he can never remember where he put it down.

C) Sitting down on the floor for a came of "Cards" which means I watch him lay cards out in front of him while he calls out their numbers.

D) Spinning the tops on the kitchen floor because he's now fascinated with tops but doesn't know how to get them to work properly.

The doctor gave us some meltaway Benadryl which is medicine in pill form that melts on your tongue.

Andrew HATES taking medicine. Which is why he's always sick.

Last night, Susie tried to force a Benadryl in his mouth to no avail.

I told her that you have to approach it as if it were candy. Let him take it on his own, don't force it on him.

So this morning, I tried my method.

After about ten minutes of bragging how "good" this pink candy pill was and him refusing to try it, I picked it up and crammed it in his mouth.

As it dissolved, he screamed bloody murder.

And then urped.

And vomited.

Because this was taking place in the den, I had no choice.

I had just steam cleaned the carpets last week.

So I cupped my hands and caught the vomit as it flowed out of his mouth.

To the best of my knowledge, I never saw "Catching Vomit In Your Hands" covered in any of those Parenting magazines I've read over the last four years.

But I'll tell ya ... I'm damned proud of how well I held on to that vomit before I made it to the bathroom.

I'm getting to be a pro at this shit.