The author, Olivia Christensen, with her backyard pool.
Courtesy of Olivia Christensen
My family wasn’t wealthy growing up, but we always had a pool; it was cheaper than a vacation.
When my husband and I were shopping for a home after selling our first, we awarded points for pools.
But after losing many bidding wars, we decided to buy a pool-less house — and then build our dream.
My family moved a lot during my childhood, but there was always one constant wherever we lived: We always had a pool in our backyard.
The pools were always 24-foot, round, above-ground pools that my parents purchased and installed themselves. We never had a lot of money, so it seems strange in hindsight that they consistently made such an indulgent purchase, but I suppose living in the landlocked Midwest as we always did, a backyard oasis is still cheaper and easier than a hundred cross-country seaside holidays over the course of 60 years.
While I enjoyed my childhood access to a pool, when I grew up I found the above-ground pools of my youth aesthetically unpleasant and in-ground pools on par with a personal jet — an unnecessary expense rich people make because they have money to burn. But my perspective on this changed when my husband and I began hunting for our second home and learned that many houses in our price range came with in-ground pools already installed.
My husband and I hunted for a home with a pool — to no avail
I found myself especially interested in these houses. I could see my kids, all with summer birthdays, having a party venue for the rest of their lives. I imagined sipping drinks in the shallow end with friends and hosting out-of-town guests every summer with the weekend’s entertainment built into our house. And yet, despite my imagination running away with my heart completely, and no matter how high our offer, we just couldn’t seem to find anyone interested in letting us buy their home so I could fulfill this fantasy.
Despite our continuous disappointment, by unsuccessful offer number No. 5, home to the biggest pool yet, being a pool owner felt less like a fantasy and more like a nonnegotiable. My husband agreed, which is why, when we found a cute house in a great neighborhood with all the bedrooms and square footage on our wishlist, he didn’t understand how I could overlook a deal breaker as glaring as the house’s lack of a pool. But I had a plan.
I figured out a way for us to afford a pool for our new home
With the house listed at $80,000 below our stretch budget of $360,000, I decided we could take out some of the equity from the sale of our previous home to build a pool ourselves. A cursory Google search led me to optimistically price this endeavor at about $30,000. The backyard was enormous, so I knew there’d be room. After all, if we had been willing to spend more on a house that came with a pool, why not just buy a pool?
First of all, apparently, the average in-ground pool costs a lot more than $30,000. Try something in the neighborhood of $80,000. While the $360,000 had been the very top of our budget, it wasn’t a figure we actually wanted to spend, and knowing all the hidden expenses that come with purchasing a house, we knew maxing out our budget on a pool wasn’t a wise thing to do. Which turned out to be OK because as large as our backyard might have appeared, we soon learned that its wonky shape conflicted with city code in all the wrong ways, and we couldn’t have the 20-foot by 30-pool of my dreams.
Despite all of these unpleasant revelations, I’d spent too much time envisioning parties that started with five-course dinners served poolside and ended with the “It’s a Wonderful Life” dance-off scene to be deterred. I continued to dig and research our options. I learned that the costs of pools have skyrocketed since the pandemic and that wait lists are very long. I found out that while the unusual shape of our yard meant we weren’t getting the pool I’d imagined, this limitation could actually solve all of our problems.
The pool guy I chose to work with said 12 feet by 24 feet was the biggest pool we could build due to easements. With that size limitation and with three children under 10, we decided a deep end was unnecessary, though I still didn’t want an above-ground pool. This left us with a fully buried, semi-in-ground (an in-ground pool without a deep end) as our only option. After all the extras, including a heat pump, a semi-in-ground would cost us $40,000, which not only was closer to my original budget but would also allow us to skip the wait list and break ground on our pool in a matter of months not years. We wrote the check.
I couldn’t be happier with our pool purchase
I’m not going to lie: When I thought about all the compromises I’d made on the road between awarding extra points for pools while house-hunting to blowing $40,000 worth of equity on a 12-foot by 24-foot hole in my yard that isn’t necessarily a good investment, I felt maybe I’d made a huge mistake. But then I had to ask myself: What’s the mistake?
When we open our pool this May, we have friends who are already planning to celebrate its christening with us and a bottle of wine. We will have three pool-themed birthday parties, and I have planned enough date nights with my husband on the patio, barbecues with friends, and cousin slumber parties to keep it full every day for five months straight. When I look at the summer itinerary we’ve built around the pool, I’m seeing all my dreams coming to life.
Sure, we could have taken the equity we’d budgeted for the pool and paid the house down further instead, or maybe we could have held onto the money and continued saving for years to afford something fancier with a deep end for my kids to enjoy when they come home from college, but we made the choices we made. And if I had to do it all over, I would make them again.
A pool is right for us, but they aren’t for everyone. For other people, it might be a trip to Europe, a degree with a reputation for being useless, or a speed boat. A dream they spend hours researching online with their finger hovering above the purchase button, while a voice in their head shouts, “Really? A converted school bus? You have a retirement to plan.” But if I learned anything from spending a large amount of money on what amounts to a massive indulgence, it’s that when we allocate money to finance our dreams, whatever they may be, when the money is gone, we still get to continue living our dream. And what is there to regret about that?