The rule is simple: read ten pages of a non-fiction book every single day. In a quiet house with a cup of hot tea, this would take fifteen minutes of peaceful contemplation. In my living room, surrounded by a mountain of laundry, plastic toys that make shrieking noises, and a toddler who wants to use my shoulder as a launching pad, those ten pages feel like translating ancient Greek.
Splitting the Pages to Save My Sanity
I have stopped trying to read in one continuous block of time because it is simply impossible. Instead, I read two pages while the toddler is briefly mesmerized by a cardboard box, three pages during the baby's contact nap, and the remaining five in the dark bathroom while hiding from my family. The information does not always sink in immediately, but the act of forcing my brain to process printed words instead of baby talk is a vital lifeline.
Choosing the Right Kind of Books
Now is not the time for dense, theoretical textbooks on philosophy or complex business strategies. I am choosing books written in short, punchy essays that can be digested in the time it takes to heat up a bottle of milk. The goal is keeping my mind active and reminding myself that I have thoughts, opinions, and intellectual capacity beyond color-coordinating pacifiers.