I think I’m a pretty decent mom.  I’m not perfect, but neither is Laurie Berkner, and she sings Victor Vito, and anyone who can fit the words rutabaga, tabasco, and Alaska in the same chorus is pretty damn close to perfect in my book.  Sure, I yell at my kids from time to time, but I also write them little notes for their packed lunches.  I don’t drop what I am doing to coo over every scribble and slash, but I have taught them what irony and sarcasm are.  I will admit within these pages, however, that my children got shafted on two fronts.  One is my disinterest and disinclination toward domesticated animals.  Though my heart expanded with the addition of each of my sons, when it comes to Fido and Mittens, my heart, like the Grinch’s, is 3 sizes too small.  The second is my increasing exasperation…