Jillian Livingston's Page

Most of us don’t wear pointy, golden brassieres or sexy tight cat suits so it may not be so obvious but I am convinced that all mothers are either Super Hero’s or Goddesses.

Personally, I am far from being Helen of Troy or Hestia I feel as though I am more of a cross between Hera and Aphrodite with a little Medusa thrown in.

In the past three months my superhuman powers have reached dangerously high toxic levels as I managed to survive four birthdays, an attempted anniversary celebration and H… Continue

I put my boots on and trudged through the new snow out to the barn to fax a 137 paged document to my mortgage company…. yet again.

As the cogs in the fax machine began to squeak I stood in Wade’s sacrificial office, which is the antithesis of mine, playing with the smoke that was emitting from my mouth and nose. For me he built a beautiful office, inside the house, with a huge window facing South and situated directly next to the kitchen so I can jut in and out preparing meals and writing all i… Continue

Wade and I got robbed of the opportunity to celebrate our Anniversary together so the other night I reenacted the plan, only by myself. I sat alone at the bar at Phat Thai, had a glass of red wine for dinner and then went to see the film, 500 Days Of Summer.

As I sat at the bar I imagined what it would be like to still be single and living in New York City. When an attractive young man sat down alone right next to me I thought about one of my favorite movies After Hours. Sometimes I get so depr… Continue

This morning I told the boys that I did the dream thing with daddy again last night. I had gotten home late from watching the film, An Education, at the Aspen Film Festival and I woke up Wade so that we could have connection and catch up on our weekends. He had just returned from riding one hundred miles in one day on The White Rim Trail, an intimidating feat. “Wow, where did all this candy come from?”, I asked. “Jillian, your falling asleep on me again”, he laughed waking me up out of my dream.… Continue

I remember sitting at a farewell dinner for Wade, surrounded by the women who had worked for him when he was the Publisher for Aspen Sojourner. He had decided to leave Publishing and start his own Contracting Company.

As the wine glasses clinked they each gave their toasts of adoration, “Here’s saying goodby… Continue