For Anastasiia Zhmutska, a 44-year-old mother of three in Kyiv, getting her children to school, keeping her job and managing daily chores have become a constant struggle against Russian drone attacks, air raid alerts and power outages.
At 8:15 a.m., an explosion echoes in the distance as an air raid alert finally ends, allowing her to take her 14-year-old son, Orest, to school.
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Anastasiia works at a hospital, raises three children and has little time to herself. Since the end of summer, Russia has “added a few extra tasks,” she tells AFP with a hint of humor that barely masks her exhaustion.
Russian attacks now dictate much of her family’s daily routine. School schedules, journeys across the city and even household chores depend on air raid warnings and the availability of electricity.
More than 190 people have been killed in Russian drone attacks on Kyiv since January, according to figures cited by AFP.
The previous evening, Anastasiia had taken her five-year-old daughter to stay with her father at the family’s second home, farther from the strikes.
Before heading to work, she checks two portable power banks in her bag, planning to recharge them at the hospital, where electricity remains available.
Russia has intensified its attacks on Ukraine’s energy infrastructure, causing fresh outages across the country. For Anastasiia, even doing laundry requires careful timing.
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When electricity returns to her apartment, she rushes to switch on the washing machine. During blackouts, a string of Christmas lights provides illumination.
“It’s becoming more complicated,” she says. “But it still has to be dealt with.”
“There’s always a way out of any everyday situation,” she adds. “At the very least, I’ve managed to find a way out over the past five years.”
Kyiv Schools Adapt to Sleepless Nights and Air Raid Alerts
After dropping Orest at school with a kiss, Anastasiia heads to the hospital.
The teenager takes his seat in an almost empty classroom, lowering his gaze beneath his blond hair as classmates gradually arrive, many visibly exhausted after another night of Russian attacks.
Literature teacher Nadia Sherekhor says the constant disruption is affecting the quality of education.
“Kyiv doesn’t sleep,” she tells AFP.
At 9 a.m., the students stand with their hands over their hearts for a minute of silence honoring those killed since Russia’s full-scale invasion in 2022. Ukraine’s national anthem plays over the loudspeakers.
Lessons resume, with stretching exercises incorporated to help students manage anxiety.
But at 10:44 a.m., another air raid alert interrupts the school day as Russian drones approach the capital.
The children hurry across the courtyard into an underground shelter, where they settle along tables in a cramped corridor and continue working on English and mathematics assignments.
Although Orest has grown accustomed to shelters and explosions, he admits that recent months have become more difficult.
“I keep everything to myself,” he says.
Above ground, the sound of a drone cuts through the air. Ukrainian air defenses open fire before an explosion is heard in the distance.
A Mother’s Constant Vigilance
At the hospital, Anastasiia discusses emergency supplies with colleagues, including how much drinking water and canned food they should keep at home.
Her phone rarely leaves her attention.
She moves between school WhatsApp groups, Telegram channels tracking Russian drones and a GPS application showing Orest’s location.
“I’m always thinking about how to organise myself because for me the hardest part is making decisions,” she says. “I carry this burden of responsibility all the time.”
At 2 p.m., Orest leaves school for gymnastics training. He dreams of becoming an Olympic athlete, but even his journey to practice requires careful planning.
Anastasiia must check whether public transport is running, whether metro stations have closed and whether Russian attacks have made his route unsafe.
“Before I answer him, I’ve already monitored everything: I’ve looked to see whether the route has changed, whether the metro has been shut down,” she says.
Her anxiety intensified on Oct. 14, when a Russian drone struck a business center between her workplace and home.
A student waiting for a bus was seriously injured, while debris from the explosion landed on Anastasiia’s apartment building.
The attack brought the danger even closer to her family.
Two Hours to Travel 15 Kilometers
By 6 p.m., Anastasiia is on a bus as her family heads to their second home across the Dnipro River, hoping for a quieter night away from the attacks.
“It’s a peaceful place,” she says. “But getting there is an ordeal.”
Traffic is backed up near Kyiv’s Southern Bridge, which has been closed since Russian drones struck it the previous week.
The journey of just 15 kilometers, or roughly nine miles, takes two hours in rush-hour traffic.
For Anastasiia, the disruptions are more than inconveniences. They are part of an exhausting daily calculation of how to keep her children safe while maintaining some sense of normal life.
“It feels like it can’t get any harder than it is right now but I know it will,” she says.
Before her phone battery dies, she manages to send one final message to her youngest daughter, asking her to stay awake until she arrives. She has a promised treat waiting in her bag.
Asked what would finally push her to leave Kyiv, Anastasiia falls silent.
“I’ve already asked myself this question several times,” she eventually replies.
“And I don’t know the answer.”