Free Christmas Calendar for the Kids!

Every year I make these for my kids and every year, I offer it up to the rest of the web. The idea of this is to either put it on your desktop, OR, as I do, print it out and hang it on the wall for your children. I make one for each of my kids and then every night before bed, they get to take a crayon and mark out the days until Christmas.

Now you know as soon as you put up the tree or a child catches wind that this is the month of Santa, they will bug you and bug you…” MOM WHEN IS XMAS???” lol Well this helps you with that. Your children get to figure it out for themselves. lol


This is something Free and easy to do. If you do not have children, well save it and email it to a friend that does. Or pass it onto your grandchildren or someone who has grandchildren, nieces, nephews, neighbors, whoever.

Christmas is all about memories, and for me this is all about making those memories with my kids. And as you can see by Santa in the calendar, he is having a good laugh at some of his …well…own memories.


So if you choose to save this…enjoy!



The Calendar does not go past the 25th of December because, well, this is all about the kids and getting them to CHRISTMAS DAY!!!!! lol


If you would like to have this Calendar, CLICK HERE to get it full size. Don’t worry…the link is taking you to my Photo bucket album. Once you get there, just right click and save as.

Into the Mound

Hands and knees slick with mud, I crawl,

Head first into the dark grave,

Offering myself to stillness and silence.

I turn my back upon the light,

The sweet smell of moist death in soil,

Age old decay and mouldering time,

Taste them in the air. Savour the aroma of history,

Accustomed to the sun, I am sightless,

My fingers guide me, feeling out,

Damp earth beneath me, rock around me.

I inch forwards into the unknown,

The impenetrable darkness swims,

With lights of my own imagining,

Swirling dark dream colours.

Seeing nothing and everything.

The tomb chill creeps into my bones,

I am amongst the memories of those dead,

Standing before a long night corridor,

That leads to otherworlds or oblivion.

Trickling drops of water,

Seeping from the soil above,

Seeking out the deep heart of the world,

Caressing rock, dissolving debris.

Time has collected in pools here,

My life, the flicker of moth wings,

Nothing more: I sense my brevity.

I sit gazing into the beyond,

Above me, the tread of footsteps, distant cries,

Children and the modern trappings,

I hear the passage of slow seasons,

The drift of days through warmth or snow,

The gentle rhythm of lengthening, shortening night,

Life rising and falling like the river’s tide.

I see death, grotesque and beautiful,

The rotting down of past aspirations,

The maggot-ridden corpse that feeds,

The soil that feeds the plants above.

I see the delicate harmony of beginnings and endings.

Lying the grave of ancient peoples,

I hear the slow sweet pulse,

Life, like blood in veins pounds slow and deep,

Drawing me into its patterns.

Turning in the cramped, damp chamber,

I slither through the narrow breach,

Pushing out from the earth belly,

Startled afresh by light,

Overcome by myriad colours,

The vibrant, glorious disorder of the living.

I emerge from amongst the dead.

Reborn, carrying the memory of dark places

In the slow beat of my own pulse.