We Are (Now Both) Canadians!

Eight years after we met studying abroad in Germany, six and a half after he moved to Canada, my American husband is now officially my American-Canadian husband. (As of not last Monday but the Monday before, but life’s been a little weird as of late, so it’s taken me forever to get around to documenting this momentous event. My apologies.)

It’s still sinking in for both of us. Although we’ve known all along, from the time that he started the citizenship application process, that it’s a big deal, it’s a bit of a paradigm shift or something. For him more so than for me, obviously, but still: this is exciting, and identity-altering, business.

Unfortunately, his citizenship ceremony was scheduled for the morning that I was discharged from the hospital. I was very disappointed to be unable to go, but I was extremely thankful that our good friend volunteered to drive him there, attend, and document the event; another friend offered to pick me up from the hospital and bring me home, making both events as pleasant and celebratory as possible. We’re incredibly lucky to have such a great support network. Thanks, dudes!

The friend who was amazing enough to accompany my husband to the ceremony texted me this image, which brought lopsided tears to my eyes (he also took a frame-worthy photo that is now the the wallpaper on my iPhone, but I feel like this one captures the moment quite nicely). 

Despite my intense Topamax-induced fatigue, we celebrated his newfound Canadianness (a word?) that night with Canadian Club (for him), which was a gift from my parents, and Swiss Chalet, which is my favourite Canadian restaurant and specializes in rotisserie chicken, in case that isn’t totally clear from the name, which evokes a picnic in the Alps and whatever Swiss people eat when they’re on vacation.

In any case, it’s been really nice to mark this life event, and also have so many of the people in our lives acknowledge it (in a positive manner). Friends planned a lovely dinner at a restaurant specializing in “Canadian comfort food.” Both sets of parents have been über supportive. It’s also been nice to see how excited my husband has been. As soon as he was allowed—there was a two-day waiting period—he applied for his Canadian passport. He picked it up on Wednesday, and, for whatever reason, seeing “Canadian” under “nationality” was what’s made it most real thus far.

My husband’s Canadian, y’all. Whoa. Super weird. Super cool.

The puzzle company celebrated the citizenship ceremony with a jigsaw picturing my husband, who apparently turned into an old-timey Mountie immediately upon receiving his certificate.

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