Because I Haven't Posted Enough About California

It's All Relative

Talmage is a small guy. There are many things for which he has to wait until he is a big guy. A razor? Wait until he's a big guy. Splash Mountain? Wait until he's a big guy. Pour milk from a carton into his own cup (while insisting that the whole thing is big full)? Wait until he's a big guy.

Last night Talmage was a little upset during the going to bed process, and to help him calm down Tyler climbed into his crib with him. After books and songs and kisses, Talmage asked Dad to stay and sleep. Tyler told him he didn't fit into the crib. "Dad--big guy." Talmage concluded. "Wait until he's a small guy."

With An Admiration Similar to What Talmage Felt Looking At Buzz

On the right is President Monson. And on the left, that's my dad.

I Really Don't Know How To Tie This One Together With a Title. Mean Mom? The Sacrifices Mothers Make? Can I Help You Be A Mean Mom? Any Suggestions?

We ate lunch at a pizza/pasta place in Disneyland. When we arrived at the restaurant, I left Tyler in line to order our food while I took Tal to the bathroom to change his diaper. We were in Tomorrowland, so the flashy and overpriced souvenir that was everywhere you looked was a large Buzz Lightyear action cup. It was an action figure AND a cup! Given Talmage's tendency towards the drink, there was nothing he wanted more in the world. Talmage is typically pretty good at being told no and he reacted remarkably well when I told him that those cups were for someone else. When we returned from the bathroom, Tyler was about to buy our food and told me that Preston and Jacob, Talmage's cousins, were getting Buzz Lightyear action cups. Tyler didn't really want to get Talmage one, given the overpricedness, but I told him that Talmage really wanted one and if his cousins were going to be playing with one for the rest of the trip, we really needed to buy one for Tal. (Are you catching that dynamic? I talked Tyler into getting it. Me. Mommy. Not Daddy.) After our group decision, Tyler turns to Talmage and tells him "We are getting a Buzz cup! With Buzz on it!" Talmage immediately lights up, turns to me and says, "Mom said no; Dad said YES!"

That has become his mantra that he has repeated over and over to anyone who will listen--himself (he listens very well to himself), Sean, Barbara, Tigger, various employees of Disneyland. "Mom said no; Dad said YES!" I decided after a couple days of this to take advantage of Dad's new favored position and hightail it out of there to return to Utah and a life unencumbered by the responsibility of motherhood.

I slept in today.

I know many people sleep in and that they do it all the time. Those people are not mothers. There are many sacrifices you make to be a mother. One is your cute body. Another is your freedom to shop in peace without fear of singles who sleep in regularly looking down at your "joyously active" and "wonderfully creative" toddler running up and down the aisles and shaking their single heads, knowing they will do things much better when they are a mother. These are things that I have just learned to accept and embrace. My stretch marks? They are beautiful. Judgmental strangers? Clearly don't understand how difficult and wonderful having a toddler really is. But the sleeping in, OH, THE SLEEPING IN! I have gotten up between 6:00 and 7:00 the last 2 years 9 months. And I have at least 20 years of it ahead. Sure, Tyler is an amazing father and has many times played with Talmage so I could sleep an extra 30 minutes. But those 30 minutes are the restless sleep of the guilty not the glorious narcotic slumber of one alone in a house, waiting for the sun to graze my eyelids and gently nudge me toward consciousness. 8:23. That's all I could manage. But it was a holy experience.

I have found out that I am incapable of taking care of myself having taken care of a small human being for almost three years. I stayed up late (til 10:36!! LATE.) last night despite the fact that I was ready to collapse at 7 pm. And then when I went upstairs to go to bed, I realized that I hadn't eaten. All day long. I totally forgot to eat. So I went to the fridge, threw away some rotten turkey bacon and sour yogurt and made myself white bread with swiss cheese and some peach-mango salsa. With a pickle.

I'm now in desperate need of responsibility so I can become a functioning human again. Anyone need anything? Someone to say no to your kids? Any Disney souvenirs to reject? Bring it on. My self-reliance depends on it.

Pope Joan

It's been a while since I finished a book. I blame this on Tyler being out for the summer. I just can't justify lying on the couch when there's laundry to be done when Tyler's sitting RIGHT THERE. Hooray for vacations to southern California!

Historical fiction usually bugs me because it often dramatizes the life of an obscure woman and seems to claim that Gloria Steinham lived in 300 B.C. And I typically just don't buy that the cultural paradigm of 300 B.C. could produce a super feminist with 1970s values. I think this is part of what bugged me about The Sixth Wife. That type of woman just usually falls flat for me.

However, I bought the character of Johanna of Ingelheim/Pope Joan in this novel. My suspension of disbelief was intact believing that if the opportunities perfectly aligned themselves like they did in the novel, this character might exist.

The character that I didn't buy, despite how much I really really wanted to, was Gerold. Gerold is a hugely loving and understanding man who always stands behind Joan. I'm not sure that 850 A.D. and all of the ideas that were kicking around back then about woman's inferiority and general dirtiness could produce such a powerfully supportive man.

I guess I'm just grateful to be an American woman in 2008 where I have choice in what I want to do with my life, and where most men, and certainly the men that are important to me, support me in doing what I want to do. (Thank you, Tyler.) I'm grateful for the Gloria Steinhams of the 1970s who helped produce the environment of today.

Joan struggles throughout the book with her "barbarian" heritage (her mother was a Saxon) and her not very flattering Christian heritage (her father was a tyrannical priest). She also struggles between her intellect and her passion. Which of these natures is right and true and where is God in the mix? Her last thoughts in her story find some resolution.

Her spirit swelled withing her, filling the emptiness inside. She was bathed in a great and illuminating light. Faith and doubt, will and desire, heart and head--at long last she saw and understood that all were one, and that One was God.

This felt true to me. I guess people get out of books that which confirms their own belief, but I felt this supported how I feel about revelation and God speaking to your mind and heart. I think that because of this, revelation requires a lot of thought, something that happens more easily and better the more practice you have learning. Woolfolk Cross commented in her question and answer at the end of the book: "I want readers--particularly women--to understand one basic truth: to empower yourself in this world you must learn." I think that applies personally as well as politically.

This Post Brought to You by the Numbers 2 And 8

Mama: 900; Talmage: 2,300

This score answers several questions about our day at Disneyland. Are we going to wait patiently in line?: Mama 900; Talmage 2,300. Are we going to buy an overpriced Buzz Lightyear souvenir drink?: Mama 900; Talmage 2,300. Are we going to eat candy right now?: Mama 900; Talmage 2,300. Are we going to buy chotten chanee? Mama 900; Talmage 2,300.

But in the end, I think we both achieved Level 7 Galactic Hero status for both our behavior and general enjoyment. Another galaxy saved for infinity and beyond.

Written With a Fresh Sunburn Kissing My Cheeks

Yesterday, Tyler, Talmage, Nana, Papa, Marissa, Luke, and I (count them, that's SIX adults and one toddler with a car seat) piled in my dad's Ford Explorer for what will be forever known as Care Bears Caravan 2008. We are vacationing in southern California with my family and considering the cramped conditions, it was a surprisingly pleasant 12 hour road trip. Talmage watched 12 straight hours of "shows" and Care Bears Oopsie Does It came up far more than it ever should have. "This my favorite show," Talmage interjected repeatedly--a judgment of quality largely based on the sparkly pink DVD case. "This pretty, Mommy."

So far we've had a fantastic trip, filled with several hours at the pool, home for lunch, then several hours at the beach. The only confusing part of the trip is "Where'd Disneyland go?" something that has greatly concerned Talmage for the last 48 hours. Before we left, we just kept responding, "Anaheim." This satisfied him, but after we got in the car to go, Talmage was ready to be there:

"This Disneyland?"

"No, Talmage. This is Costco in Murray."

"This Disneyland?"

"No, Talmage. This is Costco in St. George."

"This Disneyland?"

"No, Talmage. This is Costco in Las Vegas."

"This Disneyland?"

"No, Talmage. This is Costco in Victorville."

We can learn two things from this exchange. One, Talmage equates parking lots with amusement parks--not a bad assumption. Two, my dad, in a characteristic stretch of frugality, had printed off the locations of every Costco from Salt Lake to Newport, California in order to save money on gas. When we pulled into our condo, Talmage asked, "This Disneyland?" And we answered, "For all intents and purposes, YES."

Hoping Your Lazy Days of Summer Are As Lazy As Ours

Another Thing That Is Right With The World

You don't even know how deeply satisfying I find it that the "Care Bear Stare" still exists.

The Real Test Will Be To See If You Read Through The Doctrine To Get To The Cute Story

On my mission, often the trickiest part of teaching was to get people to feel and recognize the spirit. As I recall, we had entire training sessions on getting people to feel and recognize the spirit. Investigators often wanted an angel to tell them that the Book of Mormon was true and we had to teach that the spirit didn't work that way. The spirit is not in wind, in earthquakes, or in fire, but in a still small voice (1 Kings 19: 11, 12). Paul taught that the effects of the spirit are "love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, [and] temperance" (Galatians 5:22). And my favorite scripture on how the spirit reveals truth is in the Doctrine and Covenants, when the Lord describes revelation to Oliver Cowdery: "I will tell you in your mind and in your heart" (D&C 8: 2). I think this means that after you think about and study an issue, after you pray about it, if it makes sense in your mind and it feels good in your heart, that is nothing short of God confirming that something is right and true.

I'm not sure that this was the most effective thing to do, but during our discussions with people or after prayers we would ask them, "How do you feel?" To which they would invariably say, "Good." And then we would read the Galatians scripture and say "Did you feel love and peace? These are the feelings that confirm that what you are learning is true." In retrospect, I would have spent more time helping people understand that it is a process and that your own personal study is a big part of that process. Oh well.

We are in the middle of potty-training Talmage. We started about 10 months ago when Talmage saw an elephant go poo at the zoo. It was a Very Significant Event in Talmage's life. First it was funny: "Elephant poo. Funny!" Then it was fascinating, definitely worth a return trip: "See elephant? Zoo? Go poo?" Then it became a demand: "Elephant! Go Poo!" Oddly, the elephant obeyed this command twice. This grew to a delight and interest in poo created by all mammals; every time I pick up Lu's poo on a walk Talmage demands to see it and analyze its color and texture. I thought that if other creatures' poo was amazing, just imagine, IMAGINE, the pride Talmage would feel when he created his own poo right in the potty!

All was going swimmingly until Talmage, in a burst of artistic splendor, went P-O-O in the B-A-T-H. He screamed like ants were climbing all over his body (a recent fear of his) and was sufficiently traumatized that I have to spell large portions of the story when I talk about it for fear that the episode will return fresh in his memory. Talmage was petrified of anything having to do with removing his diaper, and he wore a Little Mermaid swim diaper for months while taking a bath (why Little Mermaid? See here). We called halt on the potty-training.

We've recently picked up the potty-training banner again thanks to a healthy love of treats. Talmage has been sitting on the potty twice a day for the past five days and has consumed about 9.8 lbs of sugar in the process. After reading some literature that encouraged me to set aside some "naked time," Talmage and I headed out to the backyard with him stripped down to his nothins. I had a couple of concerns about this. One, Tyler is panicked that at any time The People might see Talmage naked. Ostensibly, these are the same people who camp out in our front yard and spy on our activities. Two, as mentioned previously, Talmage has heretofore been petrified about The Removal Of The Dipe.

Talmage had been playing naked in his new plastic swimming pool for about an hour when suddenly he looked at me meaningfully and let loose a steady stream of urine. He couldn't have been more proud than if he were a 12-year-old at Boy Scout Camp. I couldn't have been more proud than if he had been a 12-year-old earning his Eagle Scout.

I congratulated Talmage and things started to feel a little familiar when I said, "Did you feel warmth and fullness? These are the feelings that confirm that you are about to go pee." And yes, it is just as tricky to teach a toddler how to feel and recognize the urge to urinate.

All of this reminded me of the entry Sarah Bettinson made in my eighth-grade yearbook: "Feeling the Spirit is like peeing your pants. Everyone can see what you've done, but only you can feel the warmth."

No Pepper Was Used In The Making Of This Meal

What I Decided Last Night At The Venture Outdoors Festival After Listening to Musican John Allred Who Is Working On The Solo Project "Allred"

I don't describe enough of the activities of my life as solo projects.

Right now I'm working on the solo project "Motherhood." It's closely related to my joint venture "Parenthood."

Favorite Mantra Overheard At The Fill The Ark 5K, From One 12 Year Old To Another

"All right friend, let's get ourenergy on!"

Favorite Aside Overheard At The Gateway Last Night (And, By The Way, If You Live In Salt Lake, You Should Go See the Sidewalk Chalk Art Festival)

"He's twenty-four, but he SO acts like he's twenty-one."

Epiphany

I am a hindu Mormon. (And no, that's not the epiphany.)

I went through a period of life as a vegetarian, a moral decision fueled mainly by Disney movies that led me to believe that all species of the animal kingdom including earthworms and paramecia experience a full range of emotion and comprehension. I am no longer a vegetarian, but I still fall subject to this delusion, like when I admitted to my brother Sean that while I know that insects lack a central nervous system and can't feel pain, I still wanted his medical opinion on whether I should let the wasp who I had just removed from a puddle of syrup dry off or if I should just put him out of his misery. Tyler screams for me when he sees a spider, not because he's afraid of them as some friends have mistakenly believed, but because I need to gently and humanely remove it from the house. Sometimes I make it a little bed out of a matchbox and cottonballs and tuck it in for the night.

My tender little heart breaks the most when nature is allowed to run its course. I struggle when a group of animals singles out the weak among it and tries to peck/trample/gnaw it to death. I have been known to run after a gaggle of geese clapping my hands and yelling to get them to leave the goose with the short leg alone, when I know very well that when I leave the park the lame goose is going down.

I brought all of these emotions to the zoo last winter when I observed two Aldabra Giant Tortoises. One was significantly larger than the other, maybe four feet long while the other was only two and a half. There they both were, enjoying their breakfast when suddenly the smaller tortoise shot off across the display. Hogle Zoo describes these reptiles as "slow-moving," and baby, that tortoise was booking it. Looking menacing, the great big bully tortoise came lumbering after the poor defenseless little (comparatively) tortoise. When the big tortoise climbed on top of the poor small tortoise and stretched out his neck to peck the little tortoise on the head (who, incidentally, tried to defend itself by trying to retreat into its shell) I looked around for a zookeeper to alert. It was then that the on-top large tortoise, in the words of the exhibit label I noted today, "[emitted] a deep groan that [could] be heard from a considerable distance."

Ohhhh. I get it.

All in all it was an educational experience.

Pillow Talk (And YES, Tyler and I Are As Cute As Rock Hudson and Doris Day)

"You were whistling in your sleep last night."
"Whistling?"
"Yes. The same two high-pitched shrill notes. Over and over."
"I was whistling?"
"And you followed it up with a very enthusiastic 'Hi! Laura!!!'"
"I don't even know how to whistle."
"Well, when you're hypnotized your subconscious can do all sorts of things. I saw someone who said they couldn't dance move like a Go-Go Girl."
"But if you can't speak Swahili your subconscious can't speak Swahili."
"Honey, in your subconscious, you're the Diana Ross of whistling."

Sometimes I Feel Like I'm Living With Joan Rivers

Talmage's favorite new descriptive terms are spicy and yummy. As in, "This dress is one spicy little number. And this handbag? Simply yummy."

She's Very Licky, Too

Lu's sister, Tawny, is staying at our house this week.

Lu came into our life the Christmas after we bought our house as a surprise present gone horribly awry. Tyler decided to get me a dog and made several secret trips to a breeder in Roy to check out the puppies (said breeder mysteriously disconnected her number after we discovered Lu's genetic joint problems). Maquel, Tyler's sister, accompanied Tyler on these trips. Returning home one evening after playing with 12 adorable fluffs of golden retriever, Maquel mimicked their big brown heart-breakingly pitiful eyes and told her husband Clark that she needed a puppy, too. Clark, being the wise man he is, bought her a puppy.

I found out about the puppies shortly after Thanksgiving. My mom--to whom I recently referred as a dog hater but who informed me that she does not hate dogs, she is only indifferent to dogs, and she can prove it because she likes Pammy's dog who leaves her entirely alone--was in on the secret and tried to talk me out of my own surprise present. I was under the impression I was receiving a quilt. Tyler had gone to great lengths to plant this imaginary quilt in my head, including buying and "accidentally" leaving out fake scraps of red fabric (did I mention Tyler is an amazing quilter? He is). What was really above and beyond, however, was when Tyler fake sleep-talked about how "she really likes red the best." Who knew my husband had the super-human ability to plant the deception in his sub-conscious and sleep-talk the fake gift to me? I was momentarily confused when my mom was trying to talk me out of the quilt I was about to receive--what did she have against finely woven fabric?--when I realized there was only one thing my extremely indifferent to canines mother would try to talk me out of. A dog.

I have since decided that having a close relative get a dog at the same time you do is the only way to go. The most obnixous thing about owning a dog is what to do with the dog when you go on vacation. The answer? Dog sleep-overs.

Which brings us to the original point: Lu's sister, Tawny, is staying at our house this week.

Tawny and Lu have different personalities. Tawny would like to inform the public that She Would Like Your Attention Right Now and For the Next Several Years Of Her Life. Lu would also like your attention. She Would Like You to Throw Her Ball. Lu frequently will leave her ball at your feet and then pounce on it for the next twenty minutes, saying "Did you notice there is a ball right here? There is. I would like for you to throw it. Right now. Maybe you missed it. Because it's right here. And now would be a good time for you to throw it. You can think about if for another two seconds if you like, but after that I'm going be really insistent about the throwing of the ball, which, incidentally I would like you to do. Right now. RIIIIIIIGHT now. Right now." Tawny, however, just knocks you over and sits in your lap. Which seems a bit overwhelming, I know, since Tawny weighs roughly 60 lbs. It becomes even more overwhelming when Lu's little mind lightbulb goes on and she says, "You mean sitting on your lap is an OPTION? Why didn't I think of that?" And 120 lbs. of golden retriever on your lap is really too much golden retriever.

The best part of Tawny is that Talmage has realized that he likes Lu. No one is more surprised than him. Up until now, Talmage has taken the approach of trying to ignore that Lu exists. Except when he finds her presence in the hallway in front of the heat vent annoying, and then he grabs on to her fur with both hands and pulls. But now, (to quote my brother Scott) Tawny is to Talmage as Lex Luther is to Superman. She is his archnemesis. He has spent the last several days flailing his arms as he screams at the top of his lungs "Tawny Out SIDE!" Today he took a bone out of Tawny's mouth and said, with more anger than I'm sure I use when talking to the dog, "NO, Tawny. LU'S bone." Today, after banishing Tawny to the backyard while Lu got to play in his room, Talmage said to me, "Talm love Lu. Tawny go home?"

Going Green

I having all sorts of html-induced panic attacks because I'm trying to figure out how to make the Green in "Going Green" green. I know it's a pleasing aqua right now, but I would like it a big, bold, I'm-doing-my-part, emerald green. The root of the problem is that I don't really know html. But, I have successfully figured out how make my blog posts space attractively instead of smooshing all the lines together as blogger is want to do. Now that I've mastered that much html, I think I'm ready to create my own website. But clearly I can't change the font color on just one word in the title of just one blog post. Ego slowly deflating.

In sixth grade Megan Westlund and I were debate partners. Megan was one of the most beautiful people I have ever known personally--I'm sure she still is--something I considered a definite plus on my debate team. In Utah, elementary school debate is sponsored by some alternative fuel organization. Debates dating back to 1992 all center on the feasibility of mandating alternative fuels. Megan and I chose to be negative, proving with sixth grade logic that alternative fuels were not the answer, and that we should protect the environment by riding the bus.

I distinctly remember Megan and I taking first place in Granite School District Elementary Debate 1992 for the negative team.

Unfortunately, Tyler also remembers taking first place in the same tournament arguing the same side and he has the statue to prove it. However, this is my blog post and I can claim whatever I want, thanks to the validation of the internet.

Megan and I took first place in Granite School District Elementary Debate 1992 for the negative team.

Despite this victory of staggering (and maybe inaccurate. maybe.) proportions, I can count the number of times I have ridden Utah mass transit on one hand. Once when Kelly Shoeffler and I rode to the mall in sixth grade (it was the coolest grown-up thing I could imagine. I wore six jelly bracelets and my hair stood out from the side of my head hairsprayed into late 80s wings. Only it was the early 90s.). Another time when I was a hostess, excuse me, greeter, at Marie Callenders before I got my drivers' license (I didn't get my license until well into my junior year of high school). And once, soon after my mission, when Tyler and I tried out this new fangled Trax thing. We shyly snuggled.

Today I took Utah mass transit again. The price of gas has skyrocketed. Not like it skyrocketed five years ago when gas jumped all the way to $1.50 a gallon, but the 2008 skyrocket of $4.00 a gallon. Not that this is news to anyone reading this blog. But, what is news is that I've been inconvenienced enough to finally start taking care of the environment. Talmage, Stockton, and I (aged 2.5, 2.5, and almost 28 years, respectively) took Trax downtown. If you need two active toddlers to calm down, taking Trax is a pretty good way to do it. They sat mesmerized.

I've learned that if you accompany two mesmerized toddlers, strangers from every culture and every walk of life will stop to dote on the boys. One tall, skinny, mid-50s man with long stringy hair who was wearing an eyepatch Jack Sparrow style leaned over and whispered knowingly, "Don't you just love 'em at this age." And I knew that he wasn't just commenting on how well behaved they looked right then, like how cute they might be in a picture, but that he understood that either one of them might break out in a tantrum at any moment and that would just be part of their charm. And I smiled and said, "Sure do." Those pirates really know their stuff.

So I'm planning on riding mass transit a lot more. And it won't be because of the environment, though I wish it were. It will partially be for the money, but more for the children. Stop and say hi if you see me. I'll be the one with the abnormally well-behaved toddlers.

In Which a Wooden Boy Goes On "Humorous Adventures" That Seem A Lot Like Grooming for Child Abuse

TY: "There are some plot holes in this movie."
LAURA: "Like how does a wooden puppet get turned into a real boy?"
TY: "No, that's okay. Like how do a wooden puppet and a cricket breathe on the ocean floor."
LAURA: "You'll notice their voices are bubbly."
TY: "And how come they're worried about the whale's teeth? Whales don't have teeth in the traditional sense."
LAURA: "And as Finding Nemo taught us, whales don't eat Italian puppet-makers and marionettes, they eat krill."
TY: "And an outfit that rounds up delinquent boys and turns them into donkeys? Don't you think that would raise some red flags?"
LAURA: "You know, Pinocchio's day would have really benefitted from a police force."
TY: "Well, they've got all those extra donkeys."

Ruminating While Hiking Up the Canyon This Morning

You know, as adults we underestimate the value of a really good place to sit.

How to Engage in Highly Aggressive Chemical Warfare to Ensure Nothing But Grass Lawn in Arid Desert Environment Designed Only to Support Dirt

*These are not instructions for the light-of-heart gardener who believes that dandelions should be embraced and used in everyday cooking. This is for gardeners interested in a Patton-style attack on lawn weeds. Think Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

**I do not personally sponsor any of the products I recommend, but I would if they asked me too. For free, even.

1. Do not spray Round-up directly on your lawn. Not even if the army of dandelions and clover have banded together under the leadership of the head plantago and are ready to divide and conquer. Not even if the southeast corner of your lawn faces imminent crabgrass occupation by guerrilla ground ivy rebels. Not even then.

2. Do not spray an entire bottle of Round-up on your lawn.

3. If you happen to get so fed up with THE DANDELIONS THAT ARE TAKING OVER YOUR LAWN, NOTHING COULD POSSIBLY LOOK WORSE THAN THE DANDELIONS, NOT EVEN LARGE PATCHES OF BROWN SPOTS AND MISSING LAWN, TYLER, than Scotts Patchmaster Lawn Repair Mix is the only way to go. Mulch, fertilizer, and grass seed right in one bag. Note: one 15 lb bag of Patchmaster isn't sufficient to repair the damage caused by an entire bottle of Round-up. You'll need two for that kind of damage.

4. When you fertilize your lawn, use the one with the broad-leaf killer in it. This does essentially nothing, but since you have to fertilize your lawn anyway, you might as well use this as your first line of attack.

5. When the mildly ugly yellow flowers that dot your lawn turn into very ugly poofs of dandelion seeds, the most aggressive thing you can use to wipe them out is Round-up. Remember, however, DO NOT SPRAY ROUND-UP DIRECTLY ON THE LAWN (even if you've been married for nearly six years and you think your marriage can take it. It can't.). Use Round-up concentrate and apply the concentrate to the dandelions by carefully painting it on to the dandelions using a sponge-brush. This is of course taking great care not to hit any of the grass with the Round-up. If you do miss and hit the grass, see number 3.

6. After wiping out the worst of the dandelions, use Ortho Weed-B-Gone to wipe out the rest and the other ground covering weeds. This will take more than one application. Apply about two days before you plan to mow, so that the leaves are ready to soak up their chemical death. Do this weekly. For several months, even.

7. There will be dead spots after your highly aggressive chemical warfare. Not I-just-sprayed-Round-up-on-my-lawn size spots, just spots that used to be taken up by weeds. See number 3 again, otherwise new weeds will happily germinate in that newly cleared dirt.

7. Do not apply Round-up directly on your lawn.