I’m betting that if you look closely you’ll find that the character isn’t in the story, he’s telling it in past tense, but from his present—as a storyteller, not a participant in the scene. So, we don’t spend time in the story, we spend time in the author's den, listening, safe from all the things that would make the story exciting (really, the reader knows it’s you talking, while wearing makeup and a false mustache ;–).
A test would be to look at how often what you say is a summation of an event. If you say, “I heard the children come in and troop noisily up the stairs, that’s an overview. That doesn’t say it’s wrong to do that, but you need to keep in mind that summations can only come from the author, so every time you do it the scene clock, which marks the moments of the character’s life, stops.
The way around the problem is to mention only what the character is about to pay attention to, be that sight, smell, or any combination of the senses. That limits us to what the character thinks is important. And, we know it befiore the character, so we can speculate on what to do withou the character's input. Then, when the character reacts, we learn what he/she thinks of it, not what the the author does. POV, in reality, is all about the character’s perceptions, as modified by that character’s personality, background, and current needs. Which personal pronoun you use is a different matter, and mostly the writer’s personal choice. After all, saying, “He dismissed Shirley’s words as unimportant,” or “I dismissed Shirley’s words as unimportant,” changes nothing about the fact that that character decided that Shirley wasn’t worth listening to—which matters to the plot—and is all about POV, where personal pronouns don’t touch.
Something else to look at: Telling verses showing in the narrative sections of the prose.
Just recently, I realized that the true difference between showing and telling is simply a matter of conversation instead of a lecture. In telling, we pop fact after fact on our reader (as you mentioned), giving them nothing to do but listen. Too often that's boring
But a conversation involves the reader, in that what you say raises a question in the reader’s mind, which you then answer, giving the reader a feel of being with you and conversing. To illustrate, look at a paragraph from the Last Unicorn.
One day it happened that two men with long bows rode through her forest, hunting for deer. The unicorn followed them, moving so warily that not even the horses knew she was near. The sight of men filled her with an old, slow, strange mixture of tenderness and terror. She never let one see her if she could help it, but she liked to watch them ride by and hear them talking.
It would seem that this is a passage of telling, but look what happens when I take the role of the reader:
One day it happened that two men with long bows rode through her forest, hunting for deer.
Really... what happened?
The unicorn followed them, moving so warily that not even the horses knew she was near.
Ahh… But why did she need to hide? Afraid?
The sight of men filled her with an old, slow, strange mixture of tenderness and terror.
Really? That's odd, but interesting. Tell me more. (a “tell me more” situation is a hook)
She never let one see her if she could help it, but she liked to watch them ride by and hear them talking.
Ahh... so she understands? Or is she just fascinated by the voices? etc...
To me who is always the last to get the message, realizing this was an epiphany. There is an art to providing exposition that I never consciously realized existed. In fact, my forehead is still bruised from whacking the heel of my hand on it while shouting, “You idiot! How in the hell did you miss that one? It’s motivation/response units applied to exposition.” Duhhhh.