Stop doing his laundry. Or anything else until he shares the work. But you really should have figured this stuff out before you married him. Marriage is a partnership, not indentured servitude.
Edited to apologize in advance for my lack of brevity. It was... cleansing.
Okay. Read through the thread quick and came back here to post:
"HE CAN'T DO IT RIGHT, SO I HAVE TO DO IT ALL!!11!!"
Sounds familiar. I know- I married that once. She was one of four kids "raised" by alcoholic parents. Parents who fell asleep- Manhattans in hand- in their easy chairs just about every night after dinner. The second oldest, she took on the parental role in the family. Ran the house. Doled out the tasks and enforced the rules. Administered punishment. Her siblings called her Little Hitler. One of several red flags I ignored...
When we met I saw her as this strong, responsible woman who knew what she wanted and knew how to have a good time. In essence she picked ME up in a bar. (a local bar like Cheers, where everyone knew your name...) When we moved in together a few years later she was a blur- taking care of everything regarding household cleaning, laundry etc. This freed me up to make with the DIY handyman wannabe routine and engage in my sports participation and viewing. Not that I didn't look to pitch in. It's just that when I did, I couldn't do it "right." So I backed off. Probably too much...
We got married.
She also liked to put in a lot of hours as a medical assistant/office manager and deep down thought that I should as well. She did the books at the doctors office and did ours. She liked to buy nice things. When it came to buying, I would ask her if she thought we could afford said item. Her idea of "affording" things often meant working more hours- something that she didn't clue me in on. She came to resent that I didn't share her workaholic leanings.
She gradually took to making me "pay" when I did or didn't do things that fell in line with her view of priorities. Little, moody outbursts became more frequent and not so little. When I came home one day to find a favorite album (vinyl) crushed on the patio our relationship I knew we were in trouble. (Hey- it was CSNY-Four Way Street! Blasphemy!!) We went on in denial. Probably because the sex was great. Looking back I think we really vented our issues wrestling in the sack. SRSLY!
We did the marriage counseling thing until she made up her mind that our problems really meant MY problems. Even though we discussed newly discovered physical issues she had that dictated that her clock was ticking faster than most women and that she felt the need to have a child, she bailed on the process leaving me trying to sort things out. It became clear to me that this woman who had to grow up
way too early and too fast couldn't possibly deal with the frustrations involved in living with a man who
didn't. So she treated me like she did her siblings growing up. It was abusive.
We were done. "Unfortunately"- though I was being careful- our wrestling between the sheets resulted in our son. (LOVE HIM TO DEATH!) When I got the message at work to call home, and did so to have her tell me that she was pregnant I felt only panic and dread, not joy and anticipation. I moved out before he was three months old. The upside to that is that he never knew us as a couple. Mom's House and Dad's House are where he grew up into a fine, successful young man. As parents apart we were apparently able to do what we never could have done together.
<exhale>
The OP shouldn't have a child unless this marriage- or the next- meets her AND his expectations. Unless they both want to do it apart, of course...