Ah, spring in Utah.
This morning as I left for work it was a brisk 42 degrees. By noon it was in the 50's, and, as I sit here now, it feels like it is in the high 60's, low 70's. Really, it's hot enough that neither Meg or I are wearing pants. The dog is though, which is kind of suspicious.
Tomorrow, it is supposed to snow.
I think you an now understand why there is no such thing as a "set spring wardrobe" in this state. In the past 24 hours I have seen people wearing sweaters and jackets, and people wearing shorts and t-shirts. All were dressed perfectly appropriately for at least 15 minutes of the day, and for the rest of the time they were likely bemoaning their fashion choices. That's the real spring fashion choice in Utah: deciding if you would rather complain about being too hot, or being too cold.
Ryan prefers to be too hot, stripping off layers when it gets to unbearably warm. I prefer to be cold, taking his layers as he sheds them or surrenders them because I have gotten unbearably whiny. That's how it has worked for five years, and we have perfected the system. It's how we dress Meg though, that is the bone of contention.
I dress her in a cute outfit, with a onesie underneath, and think she's ready to go.
Ryan changes out her cute sandals (that go with the outfit) and puts her in shoes and socks. Oh, and he adds a cardigan or hoodie.
I replace the cardigan with a rain jacket that I stash in her bag "just in case." I also grab the sandals.
Ryan stashes her parka in the bag as well, along with a warmer outfit, usually part of which is a sweater that could only be described as "apres ski."
We finally leave the house with a diaper bag that could be mistaken as a weekend getaway suitcase.
Well, at least we only have to worry about spring for another two weeks at most. Then the scorching summer will begin and none of will care about what we are wearing, because our brains will be melted.
It will almost make us miss the May weather schizophrenia.