Don't be Messing with Karma.

All parents know it. Once you’ve had children you are no longer allowed to brag. About anything. Even the smallest accomplishments that you or your children achieve must be kept cloistered away, never to be shared with those outside your home.

If you dare remark on your own good fortune, Karma will come a’ callin.’

Guaranteed.

And not the good, happy-happy Karma either. I’m talking about Murphy’s Law Karma.

Yes, the Karma that’s spawned when Irish bad luck and Indian folklore meet over a pint of Guinness and a pot of C’hai tea. It’s wicked nasty and should be avoided at all cost.

Yes, oh Great Karma, I am guilty.

I messed up. I forgot the rule and I bragged. I boasted on facebook for the whole world to read, that I had a full night’s sleep. Zero interruptions. No children waking from bad dreams, needing back rubs. No pooch  making tiny OCD circles by my feet, dog tags jingling wildly. No blackberry pings, jolting Drew from sleep, grunting incoherently.

And I didn’t crow about just one night of slumber, but I went so far as to gloat about two uninterrupted glorious nights…in a row. Go big or go home, I always say. Woopsie.

So what gift did Murphy’s Law Karma present me as punishment for my bravado?

Two inglorious nights of insomnia – awake until 1:00, with a side of Monkey-Brain – random worries flooded my brain as I remained sleepless, all unpleasantly capped off by Rooster-Riser – scruffy-eyed and half alert at 4:30.

My lesson has been learnt, oh Great Karma. I promise to keep silent on all future accomplishments.

Oh. Hmm.

I wonder if sharing my daughter’s great report card would be considered bragg…kk9l';'g..kdm

Doh. Hand Cramp. Owie. Duly noted, Karma.