Britney Spears’ custody restrictions were legally amended yesterday afternoon to allow her overnight visitation with her two sons again. Star Magazine says

It’s a victory for the new aunt, who’s been pushing for more time with her sons. Up until today, the boys — who live with their father, Kevin Federline — have only been seeing their mother three days a week from 9am to 5pm.

Britney showed up to court looking — dare I say it — almost… pretty. Her hair had been brushed and her shirt was stain-free and I think she was even wearing a bra, for Chrissakes. I just don’t know what to make of it. It’s like we’ve entered some crazy parallel universe where up is down and black is white and nothing makes sense anymore. Or as I like to call it, “sobriety.” Experts agree it’s totally overrated.

Those supervised visits with mommy apparently register as “terrifying” on the toddler distress scale, because Britney’s boys have been having nightmares ever since she came back into their lives. According to Page Six

Sean Preston has been sleeping in the same room as father Kevin Federline lately because he’s been having nightmares. Preston also cried for his dad at first when Britney picked them up. The boys are said to be confused when it comes to their mom, which is another reason why either Jamie Spears or a psychologist is present during the visits.

I’d say “confused” is an understatement. You can’t expect a kid to just black out the night mommy was strapped to a stretcher and hauled away. The wail of the sirens; the flashing blue lights; the steady drone of the choppers circling overhead while mommy screams from inside the bathroom — it’s practically Viet fucking Nam, for Chrissakes. Only instead of the man in the black pajamas, it’s a fat chick in a pink wig and British accent. That’s got Post Traumatic Stress Disorder written all over it.

Britney shopping on Robertson Blvd Tuesday:

After nearly two months without seeing her children, Britney Spears was finally reunited with her sons on Saturday. People Magazine reports

After lawyers for Spears and Kevin Federline reached a visitation agreement Friday, the pop star saw her children for the first time since Jan. 3. Sources confirm that Jamie and Britney’s psychiatrist were present for the visit.

The last time they saw mommy she had one of them locked in the bathroom and left tied to a stretcher, so as long as one of them didn’t get eaten by a bear this time around, I can only assume it went a little better. Although I’m sure Sean Preston was disappointed in the lack of emergency vehicles and helicopters at Mommy’s house. That’ll all change once he’s old enough to start setting fires and torturing animals in a desperate plea for his mother’s attention. Nothing brings out the boys in blue and the firetrucks like arson and the first signs of sociopathic behavior. It sure worked like a charm for Charles Manson!

EDITOR’S NOTE: The picture above is not from the three-hour supervised visit on Saturday. You’ll note the lack of a psychiatrist armed with restraints and a syringe full of sedatives in the background.

Britney Spears’ meltdown last week has proven to be less of the “bipolar” variety and more of the little good ol’ fashioned “idiot self-sabatoge” kind. Female First says

A source [said] “Britney was mad she had to attend [last Thursday's] deposition when it was her day with the kids. She was supposed to give them back at 7pm but wanted to keep them for two extra hours. When they said no she pitched a fit and locked herself in the house.”

However, the deposition date [was] set for Thursday because Britney had failed to attend the day before. The scheduled deposition was set to begin at 9:45 a.m., but Britney did not arrive until 11:32 a.m. [Her] visitation rights for that day were from 12pm until 7pm and the deposition was held at a location just 15 minutes drive from her home, meaning she did not lose any of her allotted time with the boys.

So, basically, she threw a fit about something that never even happened and that would have been her fucking fault had it happened in the first place. Jesus H. That’s like firing off a couple of rounds in the top of your foot and then screaming and throttling the gun for blowing off your toes. And God knows you don’t get anywhere with a gun by yelling at it. If Britney really wanted to make her point, she should stand the gun upright and use the trigger as a foothold while she hops around on it like a pogo stick. That’d sure show Kevin Federline who’s boss!

Britney Spears checking into the Peninsula Hotel on Monday:

Britney had her second visitation with the kids yesterday, and it went decidedly better than the first one, because this time she actually opened the door. According to TMZ

An eyewitness [says] that Sean P. and Jayden were escorted into [Britney's Malibu] house [yesterday] morning, along with what appears to be the court ordered parenting coach. Britney, dressed in a super short pink mini-dress, [spent the time] talking on her cell phone.

In her defense, it was the parenting coach’s fault she didn’t open the door last time. TMZ explains

The real reason Britney Spears didn’t answer her buzzer when her kids came to visit last Thursday is because she wants nothing to do with anyone who tries to tell her how to be a good parent. Britney was well aware that her kids were coming at 10:00 AM. Britney’s big concern was that she didn’t want the parenting coach to tell her how to interact with her kids. So Brit’s solution was to not answer the buzzer, as her kids cried in front of the house and waited for 40 minutes before K-Fed’s bodyguard pulled the plug and returned home.

Well, Britney’s getting all of her ducks in a row now. She’s even applied for a new job. What kind of job, you ask? Well… (from TMZ)

Sources inside the Viceroy Hotel in Santa Monica [say] Brit checked in Thursday and at around 10:30 PM went downstairs and started talking with a bartender. We’re told Spears… asked for and obtained an application from the night manager to work in the hotel’s “Cameo Bar.” We’re told the application is currently with Human Resources.

Ooh, a bartender! Just like in “Coyote Ugly.” Operative word being “ugly.” I’m sure Brit has visions of herself clad in leather, nimbly tossing bottles in the air and setting drinks ablaze with a sexy blow of her lips. Sounds nice. The reality would be a fold of flab hanging over her hiphuggers, her chest covered in flakes of cheese danish and ash, lumbering around behind the bar like a some kind of wounded water buffalo ballet to a symphony of shattering glass and hissing fire extinguishers. Peppered with the occasional “Ow! My eye!” or “Goddammit, there are no maraschino cherries in a fucking Jack and Coke!” or “Oh, Jesus — she threw up in the lemon bin again.” Needless to say, it sounds like a guarantee hire. Congratulations on the new job, Britney!

More of Britney with her sister heading to a sushi restaurant after the jump

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Britney Spears had her first supervised visitation this weekend, and boy did it ever go great. Except for the part where she never came to the door and the kids were sent back to K-Fed without ever seeing her. According to Life and Style

“She [had] checked into the Beverly Wilshire hotel, but she realized it wouldn’t be right to have her first visit with the boys in a hotel. She needed to see them at home, with their things around them. She and Alli [Sims] headed to Brit’s Malibu house. They went to sleep as soon as they got there. Brit was up in plenty of time to prepare for the boys’ visit at 10 a.m. But she waited, and waited, and they didn’t show up. Alli’s cellphone rang, and it was Kevin [Federline’s] people, saying that the boys were going back to Kevin because she hadn’t answered the intercom at the gate! Brit didn’t realize the intercom wasn’t working. She begged them to bring the boys back. But they wouldn’t. She was devastated that they wouldn’t turn around.”

A likely story. I once had a similar problem on my boat. I was downstairs in the sleeping quarters and I couldn’t hear myself being paged. Only in my case, the people paging me were clever enough to find a way in on their own. Because they were the police. Turns out I wasn’t in a boat at all. I don’t even own a boat. I was passed on in the front seat of my Sentra in the middle of Hampton Boulevard in a puddle of my own urine. The only difference is I wasn’t fat.

More of Britney doing what she does best — showing her beaver — after the jump

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