So, Um, Yes.

This 'marriage' thing.

Some of you might've heard a little rumour that's been circulating here on the Internet, popping up between sessions of Mafia Wars and checking to see if the Jonas Brothers have updated their Twitter feed ("Last night Kevin said the F-word! Prayer circle!"), so lemme clear everything up by saying: yes, it's true.

Last night, the Ladyfriend made an honest woman out of me.

It's not as sudden as y'all might think; we've been discussing this on and off for about a year and a half now, and while I'm aware that most people set a date and plan a big event and hire clowns and whatnot, once we'd decided that we were gonna do this, there just didn't seem to be any point in waiting.

Which is why yesterday a sombre man in a very smart suit came to our house, sat down amidst a doll house and stuffed toys and creepy electronic singalong devices, explained the process to us, performed the ceremony in our kitchen in front of Miss Amy and Bryn and Gobbler (then once again when Jen and Chris and Marley showed up afterwards; our fault, that - we kinda jumped the gun and got hitched before everyone we'd invited showed up, because we are Bad People...), and then put on his shoes, went out back and inspected our raspberry bushes.

I kid you not. Dude was excited about those bushes.

Here's the thing: we'd already made this commitment to each other when we decided to have Hazel. It was never solely about providing for our daughter; it was all about seeing this through as a family, making sure that our compromises and sacrifices were for the betterment of each other as well as Hazel. As far as I'm concerned, the ceremony is for the spectators; not that it lessens the implications of the vows spoken in any way, nor the impact such a ceremony has on those involved as well as those witnessing - but I could care less about who's watching me get married, whether it's a church full of extended family and friends, or a living room packed with a menagerie of toddlers all fighting over same broken Tonka truck; it seems simply a formality, a necessary step to take so that Rachel and I can get on with our lives together, as we watch Hazel systematically destroy everything we own by coating it with saliva, testing her new teeth on it and then flushing it down the toilet.

I don't think this will be easy by any means, but I think we've both been ready for each other for a while now, whether we were aware of each other or not; I think we recognize a strength in each other that we can rely on, if need be, as well as a complete and willing openness with one another, one that's refreshing and, quite frankly, a little scary. I know I've found a partner who's not afraid to push me when I need it, who's able to back off when I need to be headstrong, who's smart when I'm dumb and vice versa, and who's been willing to accept the worst parts of me from the very beginning.

Plus, I kinda like her, 'cuz she's really, really cute. Like, HOLY CRAP cute, y'know?

So, um, yeah. There you have it. We is hitched all proper-like now. We is The Janzens.

...that sounds SO friggin' weird.

On that note: apparently the creature who lives in our basement (Bryn) and the inimitable Lindsay Bysterveld Ross (holy heck that's a mouthful) have planned a potluck/reception for us on Friday night. We have been told soundly that we have no choice in the matter, so at the risk of having hundreds of people show up and trample Rachel's zucchini plants: this is me inviting you. If you wanna stop by, feel free to do so, and I promise I'll only flinch once when you say congratulations, and only then because it's all SO WEIRD.