Oh SwedishMum, I so feel for you!
I haven't got great memories either, really. Hope my mum is not reading this, because I bet her image of our Christmases is completely different. Mind you, it might not be, because she hardly even visits us at Christmas these days - my parents spend it in hotels or with childless friends.
I had the dubious joy of spending Christmas with a depressed mother, who was generally very stressed and/or moody (we should have got together and cheered ourselves up, SwedishMum).
I was cooped up with brother and parents in the house, with the heating not on enough (it was still on the timer for a normal working day). We had an apologetic plastic tree with lots of silver lametta strewn all over it, which we would subsequently get in trouble about for unknowingly spreading about the house. Dad was often absent for lunch as he was doing emergency callouts (he was an electrical engineer).
We ate turkey with peas, carrots, sprouts, soggy roast potatoes, sausages and bacon rolls, packet Paxo stuffing, and cheap Xmas pudding from Asda with single cream. No passion there, but at least mum cooked it.
My presents were put in a pillowcase outside the door, but they were never quite what I expected. I always felt a little bit aggrived that my relatively modest demands for things like a Tiny Tears doll were generally ignored. I wasn't spoilt, I don't think, but I just never got that present opening thrill because it was almost always The Wrong Stuff and actually not always very thoughtful.
I did always get a selection box from my (absent) Grandma, and ate chocolate until I felt sick because we rarely got it in our house otherwise (my mother was a diet freak). We watched TV a lot, and I spent a lot of time in my bedroom.
Distant relatives usually visited on Boxing Day, so we had another roast, and it was clear to me that mum was obviously putting up with them. They never saw us apart from Christmas, so they hardly knew us really. The presents were generally for the wrong age group and type of child - they kept forgetting how old we were and what our interests were.
Now I am a big Christmas rebel, so my kids get cool (if not always extravagent) presents, a real tree (although they also have a seriously kitsch plastic one they decorate themselves, and which they clearly prefer), a dead fab Christmas dinner properly cooked with all the things they like, a Christmas pudding that is suitably on fire with brandy, a Christmas wreath on the front door, pantomimes and outings, and we all have a good laugh. Much better.
I am happily pissed on Champagne quite a lot of the time (that means 2 glasses for me!) and I can't remember ever getting stressed, not even the year we all got noro virus on Christmas Day with 4 visitors ... but that's another story ...