The Escoto Family Story
Told by Lisa (Mom)
Jill’s House gave us something we’d never had before: rest and trust. For the first time, I knew [Elena] was completely safe and surrounded by people who celebrated her, who saw her light. I could finally exhale.

My daughter, Elena, can best be described as joyful. She wants to connect with everybody. She has a bright light in her, but not everyone sees that.
Elena has Angelman syndrome, which affects her mobility, communication, and sleep. In the early years, she slept only three hours a night. And so did I. Life felt like survival mode.

When Elena was six, other parents encouraged me to let her go to Jill’s House for her first overnight. I was terrified. How could I trust anyone else with her care? But they said, “She’ll love it, and you need the break.” They were right.
Jill’s House gave us something we’d never had before: rest and trust. For the first time, I knew she was completely safe and surrounded by people who celebrated her, who saw her light. I could finally exhale.
I used to call Jill’s House midway through the weekend, on Saturday afternoons, just to check in. The staff would say, “Hold on,” walk up to her, and hold up the phone. I’d hear her squealing and laughing in the background. Then they’d say, “She’s got the biggest smile on her face, and she’s having a great time.” Hearing her joy in real time meant everything to me.
Elena loved her weekends at Jill’s House in Tysons and later experienced camp weekends at Blue Ridge, where she thrived being outdoors. Blue Ridge was her happy place—smaller, quieter, and full of exciting experiences like hayrides and visits from therapy dogs. She especially loved seeing the horses (from a safe distance—they’re a little too big for her taste!) and spending time with staff who shared her excitement and energy. She felt completely at home there.
I loved the reports I’d get after each Jill’s House visit. They always began with“We love Elena because…,” followed by all the wonderful things about her. When you spend years hearing what your child needs to work on, hearing what others love about them means everything. At Jill’s House, no one told her to calm down or be different. They simply delighted in who she is.

When Elena was away on weekends, I finally had space to breathe. On Friday nights, I’d pick up takeout for me and my older daughter, Sofia, and put on a movie that we could watch, uninterrupted, in peace. For years, after Sofia went to bed, I’d end up crying until Saturday afternoon—all the emotions I’d been pushing down finally had room to surface. (Sofia would sleep in, on teenager time!). For the rest of the weekend, I would read, sleep, and enjoy one-on-one time with Sofia and with friends. Little by little, I began to feel like myself again. Jill’s House gave me that space to process and heal.
That’s what makes Jill’s House different. They don’t just meet needs; they see the whole person. Raising a child with special needs can be isolating. The world doesn’t see the unique stressors, the constant logistics, and the exhaustion. Even when people try to help, they can’t fully understand unless they’ve lived it. That’s why Jill’s House—and the community I’ve found here—means so much to me.




Last September, Esha celebrated her 13th birthday at camp. I asked if I could send a cake and treats, and the staff said yes. They celebrated with her and sent me photos. When I showed her the pictures later, she smiled so big. Usually we celebrate birthdays at home, but this one was special—her “camp birthday.”






Alex has both intellectual and physical disabilities. He is medically complex and nonverbal, and he keeps us on our toes every single day. But more than anything, he is a joy and light of my life. His smile can brighten a room and his spirit is full of love.
From the very first visit Alex’s favorite thing at Jill’s House has been the bounce house. In fact, he loves it so much that his sign for Jill’s House is “jump.” He also loves playing basketball in the gym and coloring with the staff in the art room.
Our family is big, active, and social—exactly how we like it. There are five of us: my husband Joe and me, our daughter Gianna, and our twin boys, Vinny and Carmine. On summer evenings, we often cuddle in the backyard, with family and friends over for movie nights. We’re also huge soccer fans (Arsenal fans through and through), passionately following every match. We love being outdoors, soaking up the sun with good company.
From his very first weekend, Carmine dove right in—with no hesitation. As soon as we pulled into the lot, we were greeted warmly by the camp directors and counselors, who helped him get settled. Before we knew it, he was off. That made it so much easier on us, because we’ve always tried to follow his lead when it comes to new experiences.
For us, the weekends when Carmine is away are both respite and a gift of opportunity. Two nights of sleepovers might sound simple, but for families like ours, it’s priceless. Knowing he’s somewhere safe, understood, and completely himself gives us peace of mind. It also lets us spend uninterrupted time with Gianna and Vinny, go out with friends or just breathe for a moment.
My name is Teresa Mickles, and my son, JoJo—well, Rodney Jolyn Bass, but we call him JoJo at home—has been going to Jill’s House for almost 10 years. He’s 16 now, and let me tell you, Jill’s House has been one of the biggest blessings in our lives.


One of the biggest blessings we’ve encountered is Jill’s House. We heard about it through a friend and decided to give it a try, even though it’s over two hours away. From that very first visit, Kaelen loved it. He especially enjoys the pool, gym, and making new friends with his “buddies.”



As we started the adoption process, our goal was to have another boy a little younger than Peter and also with Down syndrome. When our adoption agency showed us a picture of Stephen, 18 months younger than Peter, we immediately felt a connection to this little boy in China.
s device. While Peter and Stephen are busy having the time of their lives, my husband and I spend our weekends reconnecting as a couple, catching up with friends, or visiting our older kids. One weekend, we even used the time to drive down to Charlottesville for an event our daughter was involved in, stayed overnight, and still had the time to do things at home before pick-up.
Beck was around 18 months old when we first noticed a lack of eye contact, and he was only able to communicate minimally. By the time he was 3, his daycare recommended that we pursue testing. After he was evaluated, we enrolled him in early intervention services through an ABA school, where he received support for two years before starting elementary school. This early intervention set him up for success.
them. While he doesn’t participate in many activities—he’s not competitive and worries about his balance—he’s not interested in the high-energy weekends, and he doesn’t like crafts. But he loves spending time with the counselors. The social interactions Beck has while he’s at camp are so good!