When I became a new mom, I treated my diaper bag like I was packing for a two-week expedition into the wilderness.

Extra outfits (for baby and me), a full sleeve of diapers, wipes big enough to clean a minivan, three different pacifiers (because you never know which one baby might prefer today), a portable sound machine, hand sanitizer, snacks, a first-aid kit, teething toys, books, a changing pad that unfolded like a yoga mat… and possibly a partridge in a pear tree.

That bag weighed more than my baby. I was ready for anything, including natural disasters and the apocalypse.

Fast forward a bit — baby #2, or maybe just a few years of experience — and now? I grab my regular purse, toss in a diaper, a travel-size pack of wipes, a lone binky rolling around in the bottom like a tumbleweed, and call it good.

If disaster strikes, we’ll figure it out. (Or borrow from another first-time mom who packed for the Oregon Trail.)

Motherhood has a funny way of teaching you what really matters — and apparently, it’s not the travel bottle warmer.