Nice shoes, a great bag and no drama. That is not only the name of a popular blog written by Leigh Macdonald, it is also her philosophy: that life is to be experienced and savored, that endings lead to beginnings and that lessons are learned at every step. Leigh has worn many attractive shoes (literally and figuratively) in her life. But it is in her role as a writer, both for IAM and for her own blog, that she has had the opportunity to slip into a really comfortable role. When Leigh was nominated to be featured as an IAM Woman, we figured: who best to write that story? We hope you agree. - I Am Team

I grew up in Florida. On a cattle ranch we didn't own. The ranch was literally and figuratively miles away from the beach and most things conjured at the mention of the Sunshine State. So many of my childhood memories stem from days on that ranch with Daddy. He was the ranch's foreman, and that expansive, dusty place was an altogether perfect playground for a tomboy like me. Until fifth grade, when I found my mom’s hot rollers and realized I could also be girly.

My delayed discovery of girlishness was just fine with Daddy since he preferred that I take a pass on most-things-girl. And in so many ways, I did just that until some time after his death in a car accident during my sixteenth year on the day after Thanksgiving. As a teenager without a father, I couldn’t imagine that I would ever be anyone's daughter again. But luckily, I was wrong, and this was the first of many occasions in my life when an ending led to an unanticipated new beginning. You see . . . I later came to know the unconditional love of yet another father: my step-dad, who I now easily call Pop. He loves my children in a way that only a grandparent can, and I know that I’ve been doubly blessed to have had not one, but two, fathers.

In my mid-twenties, I met and married the man with whom I’ll grow old, and soon thereafter, I took a job selling new homes. There, I met a mentor who instantly pegged me as lawyer material, and after years of digesting his kind encouragement, I entered law school and found my first professional love. I was a successful student and managed to secure great jobs after school: first, as a federal judicial law clerk; then, as an associate with the Miami office of an exclusive international law firm; and finally, as a government land use lawyer. My husband and I soon found ourselves living in just the right South Florida neighborhood with nannies to care for our children, daily housekeepers to make our beds and a cleaning service to scrub the floors. We had a wall and motorized gates securing our home and our children had uniforms for the best private school in town. We shopped, we ate out and we enjoyed much of the fun and fanfare that Miami has to offer. But it was big, perhaps too big. And I felt pulled in at least a million directions.

When my husband's D.C. relocation became imminent, we saw yet another new opportunity. This time, to simplify. And so, with the move, I purposefully became an unemployed full-time mom. I'm not sure which was more shocking: the cultural differences between our old and new towns or the unanticipated challenges that correspond to life as a full-time mom and homemaker. For the record, I confess that I'd never actually known how hard our nannies and housekeepers were working.

But before long and without devise, I sought the sort of brain workout that I’d found in the law. And more particularly, in writing about the law. And so . . . I decided to write. Only this time, I opted for less legal topics: what’s next in fashion, what works in beauty, and what matters in life. 

And so today, I’m a freelance writer and blogger. And while my professional path has been a bit less than linear, that's okay. Because like all of us, my history is part and parcel to what I have become and what’s left for me to accomplish. And while I feel entitled to very little—perhaps nothing more than my husband's fidelity—my experiences have taught me that I am capable of anything. I know that I still have much to learn, yet I'm decidedly certain that nothing is above me, that nothing is below me, and that I seem to do okay so long as I remain open to the new and unanticipated turns that life presents.