My kids are from 3 different generations. They teach me about memes and TikTok trends, which helps us connect with each other.

• Being a parent to kids from three generations has been interesting.
• I've had to learn the language of millennials, Generation Z, and Generation Alpha.

One mother. Three children. Four generations. All together under one roof, the differences between Gen X, millennial, Gen Z, and Gen Alpha could have split our family apart. Instead, we learned to build bridges to span the divides between us.

Over the years, I have struggled to learn the language of textspeak and memes. I've also learned TikTok trends, why Fortnite is both appalling and amazing, and how Minecraft is an educational tool. The best part is that my children have been willing to educate me, and each other, on the ways they each exist in the world.

My millennial son and I learned a lot together

Adam was born in 1992, and at first, it was only me and my millennial. I was a young, single mom who spent the week working and going to school, but the weekends belonged to me and my son. We learned a lot together about growing up.

My goal was to develop a relationship where Adam felt like he could talk to me about anything, and the best way I found to do that was to be curious. Together, we watched the shows he loved, I read the books he'd recommend, and I often let him DJ on road trips. I talked to him about the possibility of alien life, why he believed God didn't like to get involved in things, and how he planned to kiss his first girlfriend one Friday afternoon when they got off the bus. (Spoiler: He didn't get kissed.)

When he was 11, his younger brother Noah — my Gen Z'er — came along. I worried about the age difference, but Adam was patient and kind — that is, until Noah started talking. With the boundless adoration and hero worship of a younger sibling, Noah wanted to spend all his time hanging around an increasingly surly tween. Locked bedroom doors, and the refrain of "Leave me alone!" often followed by a storm of tiny tears, became the standard.

But even as my new husband and I spent our days grinding out a living, I worked every evening to bury the exhaustion that came with each question my kids asked, always looking for ways to build bridges between them.

I watched new cartoons and read new books with Noah, discovering his interests and small joys. I showed them to Adam and asked his opinion. What did he think of "Kim Possible" or "Captain Underpants"? Had he seen the "Spy Kids" movie? Maybe he'd like to come with us to the aquarium or the Museum of Science and Industry? Little by little, I sparked his curiosity about this new creature in our home, and before long, Adam wanted to share his favorite songs and old shows with Noah, who delighted in his brother's attention.

When Adam passed away a few years later from a car accident, Noah and I were devastated, but even in this tragic loss, we stayed curious. We shared our feelings and fears about death and loss. One day, when he was only six years old, Noah told me that he wished he had a dandelion because then he could blow on it and wish his brother back alive. So we went out and found all the dandelions we could and made wish after wish.

My Gen Z son is a good big brother to his Gen Alpha sister

Two years later, I had a daughter, Charlotte — a member of Gen Alpha — and like his brother before him, Noah was smitten with his new sister… until she started talking. Again, there were locked doors and shouts of "You're so annoying!" Again, there were hurt toddler feelings. And while I remained determined to bridge the gap between generations — this time, as a Gen X parent raising kids from Generations Z and Alpha — Noah went through puberty like a train through a wall. He was irritable and short-tempered, snapping at the slightest provocation.

When he wanted to talk, however, I was ready to listen. Through Vines, YouTube, and TikTok, he introduced me to Gen Z's language, using memes, songs, and videos to communicate. I sent back cat videos and memes. He made it clear I wasn't "doing it right," but he indulged me.

Charlotte is 11 now, and I'm still working on building bridges. There have been new shows to watch and new books to read. The three of us have new adventures together. We go on walks and see who can find the coolest hiking stick. When we go to the thrift store, we race to see who can find the strangest item. And we take day trips to see things like the largest fire hydrant in the state. Dinner is always eaten at the table where phones are not allowed, and where conversations about all things, weird and mundane, are encouraged.

Noah, perhaps remembering his own experience as the little sibling, has become an amazing big brother. He cheers his sister on, high-fiving her for being elected to student council or praising her solo in the school musical. She asks his advice about anime and video games. They share bad jokes and find joy in their hatred of vegetables. They both get to DJ in the car.

I remain curious about my children, and I continue to answer any question they ask with as much honesty as I can. I watch as they lean into their own curiosity — about each other and the world around them — and I can only hope that they carry it forward because I don't think we would have been able to bridge the spaces between us without it.