Vivo El Seabass!

For Seabass’ first birthday party, I had not intended to go over-the-top.  I mean, he’s only ONE, right?  Right.  And yet…

Lately, I’d been thinking that a Mexican wrestling theme would be appropriate for our little one-year-old Seabass.  Maybe it’s because he’s not so little – he’s actually quite a tank.  Or maybe it’s just because I love any excuse for wearing a luchador mask.  Hm.

Anyway, I started with a 1st birthday party invitation, specifically inviting anyone who had spent time babysitting Seabass during his first year.  (And there were many.)  Then I got cracking on the luchador masks.

From there, I planned a menu featuring our neighbor Sally’s unbelievably good guacamole, soft tortillas, carnitas and black beans with shredded red cabbage, carrots, radishes, tomatoes and cilantro for color.  Plenty of Mexican beer and a simple white wine punch accompanied the meal.

I put a lot of thought into the cake because there were a few key factors to consider:

1. Whenever I’ve seen a 1-year-old child receive their first cake and frosting, they don’t seem all that interested.
2. We want to hold off on giving Seabass refined sugar for as long as we possibly can.
3. But we still wanted to get that classic 1st birthday photo where the kid has cake smashed into his hair, eyelashes, ears, and nose.

The solution?  Strawberry shortcake.  I made the butter cake with 1/4 of the sugar and substituted apple sauce, while the strawberries were tossed in a tablespoon of no-added-sugar strawberry jam and topped with fresh sugar-free whipped cream.  How did Seabass enjoy his first taste of cake?

Nuff said.

Someone else enjoyed the cake, too.  Can you guess who?

Murphy the Mooch.

Yeah, the symbiotic relationship between Seabass and Murphy hit a new peak this weekend at the birthday party.  Murph was everywhere the baby was, with a laser-point focus on anything that resembled food.  As evidence, witness this pair of photos.  Notice a difference?

The whole pinata thing was new territory for me.  And geez, it’s terrifying to watch kids swing a baseball bat.  I remember my own parents holding me back as a child from diving into the torrential downpour of candy just beyond the small child swinging a metal bat.  And now I’m holding my own child back from being brutally mauled in exchange for sugar.  Whoa.

Pinata whacking.

More pinata whacking.

Watching the pinata exhibition. Note the unbridled fear in spectators' eyes.

 It was terrific to see so many of Seabass’ friends and supporters out on Saturday afternoon. 

Seabass' gang of babies playing with...a Negro Modelo box. Huh.

Seabass was in rare form that day.  In short, he was an absolute gem – like someone had lit him up from the inside to shine.  The party was just his style: raucous, noisy, and bustling, with lots of friends and lots of food.  So many people mentioned to me how happy he looked, which made it all worth it.  He did lap after lap after lap around the yard, saying hi to everyone and making sure they were having a good time.  He was such a good host.  In fact, he even helped clean up afterward.

I will forever remember how happy our little guy was that day.  I will go to my grave remembering his happy little giant face.

Vivo El Seabass!