Twelve people for brunch sounds romantic until you are holding a spatula and someone asks if you have oat milk, almond milk, or whatever milk their cousin discovered in California. I love them anyway. I plan anyway.
My rule: one main dish that holds in the oven, one big salad, fruit on a platter like a painting, and bakery pastries I do not pretend I made. I am a hostess, not a martyr. Mimosas are optional; hydration is not.
Set the table the night before. Put out labels for dietary needs without making anyone tell the whole table their medical history. Keep the coffee going like a heartbeat.
When guests offer to help, say yes with a specific task. People want to belong. Brunch is church for people who sleep in on Sunday.