Laundry day

It's laundry day.
Then again, it's laundry day every day, especially days I don't go to the office.
I suppose I shouldn't complain; for the last 18 years, Big T has been primarily responsible for the laundry, so I haven't had to deal with it much. And for much of that, his parents, who live downstairs, have lent a hand, throwing in a few loads if we left dirty clothes in the basement and folding what they took out of the dryer (to make room for their own laundry, or yet more of ours).
But laundry now seems harder than it was before. For one thing, there's more of it. A baby is small in sizxe but not in amount of laundry generated. Add the tween girl status of Kid One, and we have two major laundry generators. In the last year, I'd say we've gine from generating one load a day to two loads every three days (not counting bedding, etc.). 
And with Tony's parents not able to look after Baby Three right now, even for a few minutes while a put a load in the washer, she needs to come with. I suppose I could leave her in the playpen (in the kitchen to keep her safely contained while I cook or wash dishes) but I don't like leaving her there when I'm out of the room. I can't leave her loose on the floor (on the second floor) when I'm in the basement -- even if she hasn't quite figured out the crawling thing, she does get around). So to take a load down when she's awake, I throw her in the basket or hamper with the dirty clothes and go bump-bump-bump backwards down the stairs. In the basement, she goes in her baby playstation (like a walker, but doesn't move). The dog usually joins us, and she tries to grab her as the dog walks by.
Once the laundry is in, it's back up the stairs to whatever we were doing. Folding and sorting takes place upstairs, with Baby Three playing on the floor usually.
It's not like Big T doesn't ever do laundry. He often puts in a load at night, and brings it up in the morning (because somehow that's always the load with uniform items).
But he thinks he's done when the laundry is clean and upstairs. Not folded, not sorted, and not put away. If I don't do that, it will sit in a basket in the living room or dining room for days. In fact, it often does. But I'm home more, so I'm trying to take care of that.
Even the days I'm home, though, the laundry really has to get done in the morning. By the afternoon, the day gets too busy. Last Friday, Baby T was in and out of the car nine times. Today looks much the same.