Among my friends, the reaction to Rihanna’s sons Riot and RZA wearing custom Dior Homme on a recent red carpet fell into two camps: those aghast at the ludicrous spend on clothes the boys will surely grow out of in months, and those, like me, who wish we also had a direct line to Jonathan Anderson when our children need a special-occasion outfit.

I kid, somewhat—and anyway, Rihanna was probably gifted the bespoke looks. But what fascinated me most about the debate over the boys’ Dior was who took what side. The mothers in the chat? They were almost uniformly swooning over the tiny, double-breasted blazer and skinny pink tie. You’d think it would be the opposite—that being a parent would force you to confront how dangerous it is to put a child into white shorts (white anything, really); how many fruit snacks it would take to coax your newly mobile toddler into a jacket, wherever it came from. But I’ll take the liberty of speaking for parents here: Yes, we are aware…but sometimes, we do it anyway.

While Rihanna herself was similarly resplendent on that carpet, dressed in a Saint Laurent gown with an olive green sash, I’d venture to say that most parents I know plan their children’s outfits with far more meticulous care than their own, even for major events. But why, you may ask, when kids barely fit into clothes for a season, and—perhaps more importantly—they are mostly oblivious to labels (unless it’s the itchy kind)?

For one thing, anyone who has given birth knows that in the post-partum months, none of your own clothes fit. Your breasts are swollen to one, two, maybe even three cup sizes larger than what you normally wear. Regardless of what kind of birth you’ve had, you’re sore somewhere down there, which makes soft pants a necessity, not just a preference. And, most likely, there’s just … more of you. I’ll head criticism off at the pass: yes, birth is miraculous. Yes, my body can do wonderful things, like growing a human. But, Christ, it kind of sucks when you can’t fit into your favorite pair of baggy jeans months and months after delivery.

And so, you hunt for a modicum of control in this new life, one made up of nursing bras and shirts perma-stained with breastmilk. This is not the moment for debating whether to buy into low-rise jeans (again)—but does that mean you’re forbidden from caring about fashion? That because you’re now raising a child, you’re required to pay attention only to the big stuff, like sleep schedules and skin-to-skin? New parents, please read this sentence more than once: You are allowed to dress your baby however you damn well please.