Chapter 1: A Morning in May

Its one of those things that sneaks up on you. You've been moving non-stop for the past 18 years to wake up one morning and realize that you have your own clan. 6 Gallagher children all of your own.

"Hey Mick…. how the hell did it happen?" you ask your husband of 14 years.

"What Gallagher?"

"We have six kids."

"i know. and?"

"Mickey, how in the hell did we get six fucking kids?"

"Well, you see when a mommy and a daddy don't love each other, they tend to pawn off their children, and give them to two daddies that do love each other." your husband replies and you smack him upside the head for it.

"What the hell are we doing?" You ask him.

"What? You wanna sell one?" he asks chuckling "We could get a pretty good price for the twins? Or the little one… she's cute." he finishes.

"Maybe, we'll have to think about it." you joke as you roll out of bed to wake up your brood on the sunny tuesday spring morning. Walking out into the hallway you ring the bell outside the bathroom that wakes up all of the children at once. An assortment of groans fills the old Milkovich house as your Gallaghers ready themselves for the day, and you laugh at the irony of this happy family living in the Milkovich house of horrors.

After you shower and dress, you know you have exactly 12 minutes before the first kid walks downstairs expecting breakfast. You crack a dozen eggs into the frying pan and start scrambling, while your husband, still in his pajamas, starts toasting bread and pulling out silver wear. Its a nice routine, something that reminds you of your childhood when Fiona would institute family breakfasts, before Jimmy/Steve and bi-polar disorder and life in the south side pulled your family apart.

Yev walks down first, throws his backpack into the family room and fills his plate with food. He's in one of his typical teenage angst moods and Ian smirks knowing the kid will soon grow out of his punk rock, trying to be a musician phase. Mickey, on the other hand is not very tolerable of the moody kid that Yev has grown up into.

"Good Morning Dads! Good morning Yev, anything exciting today? No, mostly i'll pout and write depressing lyrics in my journal and then run errands for my fathers, and pick up the twins from hockey practice. Sound like a plan? Sounds perfect son, thanks for offering!" Mickey plays out both sides of the conversation and ignores the exasperated sigh Yev lets out at the idea of having to pick up his little brothers.

"If i'm going to win class president, i'm going to need more help then i've been getting from you guys. We need to make at least a dozen more posters tonight, and they need to stand out. I'm talking serious glitter here people." Starts your 12 year old daughter Rose as she walks down the stairs, arms full of campaign supplies as she runs for 7th grade class president come fall. "Its quite sad when a six year old is being the most useful, I expect more from you guys. Yev, you think your artsy, how hard is it to glue down glitter in a box to frame the picture of me?"

"I'm sorry if my natural instinct is to cover the hideous beast." greets the 11 year old Connor as he runs into the kitchen, a ball of energy, and is promptly met with a thwack upside the head and a 'be nice' as he runs past you to collect his breakfast.

"What are you doing today Connor?" Mickey asks as he mentally tries to plan out the pick-up schedule for the day.

"I have 5th grade graduation practice this afternoon, which they're only giving me four tickets to by the way, so one of you is going to have to go in and pull a Milkovich." you laugh at the familial term for getting something done. "Then I was invited to Jack McCarthy's birthday party tomorrow, but I don't really feel like going because then I have to buy him a gift and I don't like Jack enough to spend money on him. Unless Yev and I just happen to go bowling tomorrow, and I just happen to receive a piece of cake from a distracted mother who doesn't know if i am part of the birthday celebration or not." He muses out loud.

"Yev, take the evil mastermind, bowling tomorrow. Feed him with sugar and then take him to your band practice to wear it off." you tell your eldest son. "What time is graduation rehearsal done Con?"

" 4:30 so I can walk to the garage and go home with Dad at 6." You look at Mickey and he nods in confirmation that he would expect the kid at 4:45.

"Stop it! Let go of me! Brendan, Sam stop!" You hear coming from the stairs and look up in time to see the twins, dressed in army fatigues, carrying your youngest daughter by her hands and feet like a pig going to roast.

'Boys, drop your sister!" Mickey calls and immediately Reagan is dropped on her back. She pops up immediately and runs to Mickey, gives him a hug and collects breakfast.

"Yev, we have baseball tryouts after hockey today so you need to stay for that otherwise we won't make a team. They like to see family involvement." Sam tells his brother as he sits at the table.

"Yeah Yev." Reagan agrees.

"Reagan, for the last time you aren't coming to tryouts with us. 1) You're a baby, they're never going to let a six year old on the Single A team, its for 8 and 9 year olds, you belong in Rookies. and 2) You're a girl. You don't have the speed, power or skill to play with the big boys." Brendan told his little sister.

"Watch me ass-face." the little girl accepts the challenge in a way that is completely your husband.

"Reagan, language. Boys, take your sister to try outs. Yev, can you run by the gym during hockey and pick her up from Ian?" Mickey asks.

"Sure Dad, its not like i had anything else to do today." Yev replies.

"Great!" responds Mickey, choosing to ignore the sarcasm.

The room breaks out into chatter, and you sit back in your chair and watch your family. They're happy, and healthy and have two parents who love them with everything they have. And you have the man of your dreams sitting across the table from you. Everything in the house is so different from 18 years ago. There is laughter, and color and love. So much love. This family, despite all of their complaining, and teasing would do anything to make sure everyone else is taken care of. And as that thought comes to your head Brendan places three familiar orange bottles in front of you, and Sam a glass of milk.

"You left these upstairs Daddy, you need to take them." Sam tells him his hazel eyes worried, because they remember the one time they had run out of pills.

"With a glass of milk." Connor adds from across the table. You smile at your boys, and pop open the bottles and take your medicine. You don't hate the pills anymore, because they let you live this life. With these kids, your amazing kids. And you sit back and watch an ordinary morning in May.