My husband, Jake, and I share a kiss for the camera shortly after tying the knot on Oct. 2, 2021, above. I’m actually pretty glad our wedding party didn’t let this moment go without a little mockery and immature face-making. Except the children, of course. They’re by far the best-behaved members of the group.

A few months ago, I let you in on more details than you wanted to know about planning a wedding.

Now that the rings have been exchanged, I present more details than you wanted to know about how my wedding day actually went.

Hold on to your veils. It’s time for a day in the life of a bride.

Saturday, Oct. 2

It’s the big day! Cue the singing birds and mice á la Cinderella. I am a bride.

Hopefully it doesn’t rain…

7:00 a.m.

Jake is banished from our home clutching a backpack stuffed with Red Bull and extra socks.

We exchange an obligatory, “See you at the end of the aisle!” since this is really our only opportunity to use that joke. Besides when we go grocery shopping together at HyVee. But it’s a little less cool then.

7:45 a.m.

An army of bridesmaids and I invade a local salon, demanding updos tout-suite.

This might be the only time I’ll get to attend a hair appointment in silky pajamas, let alone do so with eight other women wearing the same silky pajamas.

If I’m being honest, I’m usually a decrepit-T-shirt-from-high-school-as-pajamas kind of gal.

8:30 a.m.

Woohoo! No rain predicted this afternoon.

9:30 a.m.

The bridal party descends upon the house amid a cloud of hairspray to drink mimosas and watch Mamma Mia.

Do we sing along? Of course. Do we sound just like Amanda Seyfried and Meryl Streep? 

…Ehhh.

11:25 a.m.

Is that a cloud I see on the radar? Several clouds?

12:00 p.m.

Now that the champagne, orange juice, and make-your-own-burrito-bowl supplies have been stowed away in the fridge, it is safe to put on the White Dress.

I find the power of the White Dress is that it draws eyes while incapacitating the wearer.

Case in point, my mom has to help me put on my shoes for the first time since I was four.

12:45 p.m.

My mom drives me to our wedding venue, Rose Lake Golf Course, because she is my mother, and also a little bit because her car is by far the cleanest in the vicinity.

Proud of my ability to navigate my own town of residence sans-GPS (no, seriously, I was actually proud of this), I assure my mom that I know where we’re going.

We miss the turn.

We have to turn around.

I have to check GPS to make sure we don’t miss it again.

We arrive a tad late for photographs.

2:30 p.m.

Several people note the ominously cloudy sky is perfect for photographs, which is true. We end up with some winners, and I have a feeling Jake and I will never again look quite so good through a camera lens.

3:30 p.m.

The wedding party is sequestered in the bowels of the clubhouse to avoid being sighted prematurely.

Guests start to arrive. The quartet strikes up.

It’s almost time! 

3:35 p.m.

Rumors drift down to us from above. Raindrops! What to do!

4:00 p.m.

Tense waiting in the basement, with snatches of information reaching us from upstairs.

Guests have been herded into the tent that was set up for our reception.

Several kind souls are shouldering chairs and lugging them under cover from the rain.

Our five-year-old flower girl has taken up a rag and is diligently wiping off the rain-splattered chairs.

4:05 p.m.

Two bridesmaids strike up a chorus of “Dancing Queen” to keep us diverted during the long wait.

4:20 p.m.

Good news descends from above: our ceremonial accoutrements (100 chairs, a very heavy wooden archway, a definitely-not-water-proof sound system) have been safely shifted into the tent.

Let the wedding commence! 

4:30 p.m.

In the longest minute of my life, I wait with my mom and dad at the bottom of the stairs for the signal. You know, the signal.

4:35 p.m.

When I enter the tent, I realize what started as the rainy-day Plan B ceremony location was really Plan A all along.

Some of the most wonderful people we know have come together to drape the tent’s walls with string lights and greenery. They have hauled over 100 chairs up a hill in under half an hour. And it looks perfect.

I catch a lot of their eyes walking down the aisle, and then I catch my future husband’s eye at the aisle’s end.

It is a lot cooler seeing him here than it is seeing him at HyVee.

5:00 p.m.

Jake and I exit the tent into a smattering of rain. We’ve run through the rain together plenty of times before, but this is the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Green.

5:30 p.m.

During the final round of photographs, I realize what I love most about our wedding party: they let loose with a truly impressive display of immature faces when Jake and I kiss for the camera.

6:00 p.m.

There is a minor crisis during which it appears an electrical fuse has been blown out, creating the interesting possibility of a music-less dance party at our reception.

6:20 p.m.

A family friend of Jake’s knows about wires and stuff, and saves the night.

Boy, are we glad we don’t have to dance without music.

7:00 p.m.

We dance to “Purple Rain” in front of more people than we typically allow to see us dance.

We dance with our parents, and Jake’s cufflink gets inextricably tangled in the lacy detailing of his mother’s dress. We think it’s a metaphor.

We dance with our friends who like dancing.

We dance with our friends who don’t really like dancing. Truth be told, we force them to dance anyway because we’re the bride and groom and it’s our wedding day and the band is seriously amazing.

We dance with our relatives, and witness a bizarre East Chain tradition in which people hoist chairs over their heads and prance around like reindeer (Jake says this is normal where he grew up?).

11:30 p.m.

We drive home together for the first time as a married couple.

The White Dress is a little crumpled and a lot muddy, but I don’t really care.

I’m not even that sad that it’s over. I’m just happy that it all happened.

And, did you know, rain on your wedding day is lucky?