IF I suddenly meet my demise, my children will remember me not only for ranting and raving an inch from their faces, but for my regular heated exchanges with my husband.

During these short, sharp bursts of anger, I tend to use three words more than any others: "BACK ME UP!"

Why? Because he doesn't. Because to him, discipline is a dirty word. Either that or it's a word he hasn't discovered the meaning of.

At home, I'm the one who tells the children off. He's the one who stands two feet away looking vacant and wishing he was somewhere else.

"Back me up! Don't you think what she did was wrong? Then say so!" I will yell, after one of our children has attempted to eat a large blueberry muffin in one mouthful, then laughed as half of it spluttered out across the floor.

"You should respect the food you are eating - there are people across the world starving to death," I shout.

I can yell and scream, but my husband won't say a word. He will pretend he is blissfully unaware of what is going on around him. He will speak up if I ask him to, but his approach is more kitten than tiger. Its softly softly all the way, as if he wants the children to think of me as a psychotic sergeant major figure and him as kind, gentle daddy.

"I might as well be bringing these children up by myself," I will screech.

My husband is not the only person to shy away from the concept of discipline. Recently, we have been choosing a secondary school for our eldest daughter. A number of parents - both mothers and fathers - have voiced concerns over one institution because they believe it is too strict.

"They're obsessed with rules and regulations," said one.

Another was concerned about the smart' uniform, saying it was unnecessary.

Well forgive me, but that's what I want for my child. Decent, traditional values and firm discipline. I don't want them hanging round street corners with their shirts hanging out, chewing gum and sticking two fingers up at cars.

To me, being polite and well-mannered is more important than academic achievement. Although, of course, I will be crushed if they don't pass the Oxford entrance exam at 13.

The way some parents react to standards of discipline at our selected school, you would think I had stuck Guantanamo Bay State Penitentiary on the application form (I admit I considered it, but didn't think my daughter would like the orange jump suit).

If I'm laying down the law at home, I don't want school to be a cushy holiday.

When I think back to my own childhood, I believe my children have got off lightly. If they misbehave, they are sent to their rooms for half an hour. When I was handed the same punishment, it was unlikely I'd be allowed down for at least a week.

And no meant no. In our house, no usually ends up meaning maybe' and then yes'.

I don't want to be seen as an ogre, but I think if anything I am not strict enough. Next time the kids step out of line, I might move my ferocity up a gear. If my husband isn't going to do anything to help me, I might as well start scaring him as well as them.